Promise Me Your Heart's Still Beating
by Belladonna999
Summary: Colonel Tavington and his calvary capture a young woman for scandalous purposes, but it turns out there is more to her than her breathtaking beauty. But does she have the mental strength to hold off the charms of Tavington himself?
1. Unwanted Visitors

The hot days in South Carolina were countered by the cool, breezy nights. Most people opted to stay locked tight in their homes in this time of war, especially at night, but not the pale young woman on the balcony. Vivienne sighed to the almond moon. She closed her eyes, dreaming her familiar dream, relishing the fresh breeze caressing her legs through the sheer skirt of her gown. Her mother would scold her for being out on the balcony in her nightdress, but, as usual, Vivian found herself enjoying the image of her mother's shock. Besides, the chances any danger would reach the Kent family on their acres of country land, far away from the fighting were slimmer than a corseted waist.

Vivienne had always been a dreamer; visions of a fairy tale romance had played through her head like a broken record. She wanted to be swept off her feet by a handsome stranger. Closing her eyes, Vivienne drifted off into her dream world once again. He would be tall with dark hair and light eyes. Of course he must be strong and brave to boot. . .

"Vivienne Marguerite Kent - get off the balcony!" a shriek broke Vivienne's fantasy. Her mother stood in the doorway wearing an expression of disapproval. Grudgingly, Vivienne obeyed, dragging her feet back into the mentally stifling room. Her dreams and unspoken thoughts were always free to glide among the stars above the balcony. Vivienne's mother hovered around her, twittering about the indecency of it all.

"You shall be married soon! A girl your age cannot go flouncing about in a flimsy nightgown where anyone might see you! Now go to bed. It is well past midnight." Vivienne's mother pursed her lips and strode out of the room, her heels clicking down the hallway. When the sound of the heels disappeared, Vivienne smiled and went out to the balcony again, tilting her chin up so she could feel the night air on her delicate neck. Purple moonlight colored her chocolate hair glossy black. _How could I ever give this up?_ she thought, slipping into her dream once more.

****

The British Colonel, William Tavington, led a small group of Green Dragoons calvary to the house of Philip and May Kent. The Kents were rumored to be harboring injured enemy soldiers, a business which most certainly could not go unnoticed, he thought with a smile. The Colonel was feeling particularly giddy for action today. That blasted continental militia had recently overtaken a wagon which contained a few of Lord Cornwallis' old field diaries - full of information vital to defeating the colonist army. Tavington had failed to capture the militia and the diary, therefore again disappointing the Lord General. There were, however, ways to ease the pain of humiliations such as these. It had been some time since Tavington had done something cruel for the harsh pleasure of it. He and his Dragoons would pay the Kents a visit tonight. . .

"Philip, are you expecting guests this late in the evening?" May turned away from the window to look at her husband. Philip adjusted his glasses as he looked up from his book.

"What are you talking about, dear?" She motioned him over to the window and as he peered out, he recognized the soldiers' uniforms, panic rising in his chest. "Redcoats," he gasped.

"Do what you like to the house. I suppose we shall burn it before we leave, but of course we must first confront Mr. and Mrs. Kent and search the house for enemy soldiers." Tavington issued instructions, already anticipating the terrified expressions on the Kents' faces when he would tell them their house must be burned to the ground for their treachery. It wouldn't be so difficult to imagine that Martin man's face in place of theirs. "Move out, men." The Dragoons rushed inside to fulfill their mission. Tavington was the last through the doorway, hand on his pistol. He allowed his men to find the Kents and walked briskly up the stairs, lusting for blood.

Vivienne finally came off the balcony to try on some of the new corsets she had bought to go under her party dresses. Her mother insisted she have the corsets in the newest style. Vivienne put on an ivory silk one that looked quite nice over her cream-colored nightgown. Her bust and hips were nicely accentuated by the corset, and her waist looked even slimmer than normal. Feeling deliciously bad, she spun in front of the mirror, almost wishing her mother could see her. And what would her handsome stranger think when he saw her dressed like this? With a last little smirk at her reflection, Vivienne went to blow out the candle on her nightstand.

Tavington trusted his men to find Mr. and Mrs. Kent and do whatever was necessary to make them admit to their criminal activities toward the King. He was eager to explore and take care of any soldiers he might find hiding. Once at the top of the stairs, he noticed a ribbon of light beneath the door to his right. _I've got you_, he thought, triumphantly striding toward the door and throwing it open.

Vivienne spun around at the sound of her door hitting the wall. She locked eyes with a handsome man, apparently a British soldier, who certainly did not belong in the house. Her throat tightened, blocking her screams. The man, who only a moment ago looked nothing but surprised to see her, now had an unpleasantly cunning look on his face. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on certain areas of her body that, Vivienne realized with horror, were blatantly on show, thanks to the nightgown and corset. He was less than a foot away from her now. Vivienne couldn't move.

To find a stunningly beautiful and scantly clad young woman in place of an enemy soldier is a rare pleasure, but it was indeed the sight that met Colonel Tavington's eyes when he threw open the door to Vivienne's room. So Philip and May Kent had a daughter . . . She looked to be about seventeen years old, but obviously unmarried. Tavington ravished her with his eyes, smirking as he saw her come to realize her lack of clothing. Her arms flew to her ample chest to cover herself. _Hmm, slim wrists too,_ he observed. She stared at him with angry brown eyes, the only part of her trembling body that suggested she would put up a fight if he touched her.

"What do you want?" Vivienne demanded. His slight smile was patronizing, like he knew something she didn't.

"Originally I wanted to find an enemy soldier or two, but now I desire something far better. . . " He looked at her in a way that made the heat rise in her face.

"You will get out of my room immediately," Vivienne said, keeping the fear out of her voice. The man raised an eyebrow playfully.

"I do not believe you have much of a choice in that matter, darling." He fingered the hilt of what looked to be a pistol, lazily strolling about the room.

"I have the authority to keep a man who is not my husband out of my bedchamber." He casually ran a hand down her gauzy white curtains as she spoke, then looked over at her with eyes blue as ice.

"Not when that man has orders to search your home." He came near again, backing her up against her bedpost, she still clutching her nightgown desperately to her cleavage. He looked down at her with a cat-like gleam in his eye - and Vivienne was the mouse. Vivienne suddenly realized the consequences this situation could hold. Her glance was drawn to the still-open door. Deciding at once, she dashed toward it before he could catch her, ran out into the hallway. . . and found herself in the arms of another British soldier. He held her to him, excited to have such a beautiful young woman rush into his arms, and he began to drag her off into the corner before the stairs, his hands sliding down her back.

"Private Roth," Vivienne's former intruder barked from behind, stopping her captor's groping hands.

"But sir - " Roth began

"You must treat this woman with respect, after all, she will be returning to camp with us." Roth's pout turned into a leer as he looked back at Vivienne, who was frozen with shock and still held tight. Tavington strode over, grabbing Vivienne's shoulders and wrenching her out of Roth's grasp. As she wasn't expecting this, Vivienne tumbled into Tavington's solid chest, jerking away with a squeak as she touched him. This earned her a snicker from Roth and a sneer from Tavington - who abruptly grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the stairs.

Several colonists dressed in rags were held by British soldiers at the bottom of the stairs, looking frightened. May Kent, half mad with the stress of it all, nearly fainted when her daughter came down the stairs lead by the British colonel. Philip was about to leap forward to his daughter's rescue, but Tavington saw it coming and pulled Vivienne back into him, pointing the mouth of his pistol just below her ear.

"Your _lovely_ daughter will serve as a payment for the crime you both have committed against the King," he said with a patronizing smile. Pleased with their pale, drawn faces and Vivienne's sharp gasp, he added "We shall enjoy her company back at camp."

"No!" May cried, lunging forward and nearly into the tip of a bayonet. As Tavington towed his hostage out the door, he muttered to Private Roth,

"Shoot the rebels, and burn the house." Throwing Vivienne onto his horse, he quickly mounted as well and let the girl watch her house go up in flames, her parents darting out into the trees like mice on the run. She held perfectly and completely still in Tavington's iron grasp, but her eyes burned with fright and tears as her beloved balcony joined the wreckage of her home.

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	2. Defeated

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The very moment the group arrived back at camp, Vivienne was thrown into a tent with a single cot on the right side. Tavington stood over her, his expression unreadable.

"You will remain here for the time being," he said, all traces of a smile gone as he exited through the swinging tent flaps. Vivienne had half expected to have her dress ripped away and be thrown naked into a frenzy of soldiers, but luckily it wasn't so. . . yet. She sank down against the small cot and hugged her knees, too shocked to cry. She was angry that her life, so close to being perfect, had been ruined just like that. Even if she escaped with her virginity intact, no one would believe it. Her handsome stranger would never sweep her off her feet, there would never be any children playing in the courtyard. . . Vivienne put her head on her knees and closed her eyes, releasing a shuddering sigh. When she opened her eyes again, something glittered at her from beneath the cot. A surge of hope coursed through her as she lifted the thin sheet and saw a small knife winking at her in the candlelight, obviously tossed there ignorantly. Thanking her lucky stars for the knife owner's carelessness, she tucked the knife into her garter - a plan already forming in her mind. Tavington seemed sharp, but this knife was sharper - as was her wit. There might be a chance she could escape now. . .

****

Benjamin Martin stared into the fire, his hands clasped in his lap, the men of his militia around him chatting and drinking. They all assumed their heroic leader was tired - after all, his body appeared to be rather relaxed, but that assumption was entirely false. Benjamin Martin glared into the flames. They were mocking him, twisting and turning before his eyes to assume the shape of Colonel Tavington's sneering face after he shot Thomas.

_"Stupid boy. . . " _ Thomas had run ahead, desperate to save his brother. . . Benjamin's hands squeezed together to keep him from shouting out in rage. Every day since that awful man had killed his son and ruined his life, Benjamin Martin wanted to put his hands around the filthy Colonel's throat and wring him until the last drop of his pitiful life melted into the dirt. . . but Benjamin was biding his time. A man such as that deserved a well-thought out and painful death. Benjamin closed his eyes, imagining how the colonel would look at him with bulging eyes, begging for mercy. No, even that would not be enough. If only the damn bastard had a family. . . but how could he? There was no room in his cold bleak heart for anyone. Benjamin glanced up at his cheerful men, breaking out of his trance at last. His oldest son, Gabriel, glanced Benjamin's way and smiled softly, as if he knew what was going through his father's head. A surge of determination coursed through Benjamin at the sight of his son - He and Gabriel would think of something together. Tavington would suffer and die, Martin just hadn't figured out how it would happen yet.

****

Tavington walked into his tent later that evening. The girl was sitting on his cot, looking strangely relaxed. She gave him a seductive smile as their eyes met.

"Back so soon?" she cooed. Tavington was uneasy with her sudden confidence. He no longer felt in control of the situation, and he liked to be in control. When he didn't reply, she lay back on her elbows, thrusting her chest forward (which Tavington _certainly_ noticed). "So, what is it you are planning to do with me?" he looked at her warily, still silent, suspicious. "I assumed you all would _attempt_ to take advantage of me the moment we arrived." She made sure to stress the word 'attempt.' He snorted.

"_Attempt_? My dear, you could hardly hold back even one of us." This was the answer she was looking for.

"Try me," she said, licking her lips ever so slightly. Vivienne seemed to be a better seductress than she had thought. A predatory gleam entered Tavington's eyes.

"If you insist," he murmured so quietly she barely heard him. He was at Vivienne's side in a moment. He took her wrists and pulled her to a standing position, his blue eyes scrutinizing her face. Vivienne felt her composure fading - his arctic gaze seemed to see right through her - he knew her intentions. Their faces were inches apart, breath mingling. If she didn't succeed. . . Vivienne forced herself to be calm, gluing a smile on her face beneath half-closed eyelids and shoving her anxiety back down. She had never killed someone, had never thought she would have to. . . _You can't break down!_ As his fingertips pulled her face closer to his, Vivienne realized how difficult it would be to pull this off. Refusing to give up, she put her hands on his shoulders before he could kiss her and pulled him down to the floor. Vivienne's back dug painfully into the bed as Tavington's full weight hit her - he had not expected to be yanked to the floor. Taking advantage of his brief confusion, Vivienne pressed her body to his and let her right hand surreptitiously drift toward her hip. Looking at him warmly from beneath her eyelashes, she lifted her skirts - then drew the knife out of her garter and was about to drive it into him when he caught her wrist in a flash. He pulled back, and that condescending smile was aimed her way once again.

"Impressive effort, but you must realize who you're dealing with here. I was not named Colonel on a whim." Plucking the knife from her grasp, he sat back on his haunches - leaning just far enough away so she could scramble into a sitting position. Then he swooped in, pressing the flat of the knife to her throat. "Since it seems you don't know the rules here yet, I shall forget the attempt you made at my life. I advise you not to try it again." He stood up, looking down at her. "Now are you going to behave, or shall I have to tie you up?" Though defeated, Vivienne was relieved she had emerged from this unscathed and said nothing, refusing to meet his eyes. He appeared satisfied and turned his back to open a trunk near the middle of the tent.

Vivienne was mystified. Her expectations of this man had been blown away. Tavington was cleverer than she had originally given him credit for - and he was physically strong as well. Now there was no telling what her fate would be. If they wanted to rape her, wouldn't they have done it already? Maybe they still wanted to, but were planning something far beyond the limits of her imagination. Vivienne shivered, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Pictures drifted into her mind, horrible pictures. Why did she always assume the worst?

"That is where you shall sleep." Tavington's voice shook her out of her thoughts as he pointed to a blanket at the opposite end of the tent. Feeling a blush coming on, Vivienne fought it down.

"I shall be sleeping with you?!" she said incredulously, her voice rising to almost a squeak.

"Not _with_ me, unless, of course, you would prefer to. You have that blanket all to yourself."

"And how am I to know you won't take advantage of me in the night?"

"You don't." With that, he slipped off his red jacket and put it into the trunk, revealing a loosely-fitted white shirt. As he proceeded to take off his boots, Vivienne felt rather awkward just gaping at him as he undressed. She tried to look away, but when he removed the white shirt, her stare was drawn to him again. She had never seen a bare-chested man before - and though she hated Tavington, she rather liked his muscular body.

She was even more angry now. He was taunting her with his nonchalance. Tavington noticed her staring at him, but appeared to not care as he lay back on his cot. His still form convinced Vivienne to curl up on the blanket, realizing how tired she truly was as her body relaxed right away. Her exhaustion proved more powerful than her paranoia of being raped and she was soon asleep, breathing softly.


	3. A Daring Escape

Vivienne awoke early the next morning. Tavington was still on his cot when she opened her eyes. She coughed loudly. He remained still, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. He was asleep. This could be her chance. The sun was hardly up yet; if she headed for the woods, they surely wouldn't find her. Vivienne stood and crept over to Tavington's sleeping form.

Asleep, he looked harmless, even handsome. His long, dark hair had come out of its queue and was tousled around his shoulders. So innocent. . . but Vivienne knew better. She slipped out of the tent and peered around, checking for soldiers on guard.

The camp was entirely silent, so Vivienne dashed for the cover of the trees about a hundred yards from the tent. _Come one, come on._ It was as if she couldn't run fast enough. Her feet pounded on the soft ground, the sound they made seemed loud enough to wake the whole world - Tavington would surely dart out any moment. . . Vivienne slammed her back against a tree, her chest heaving. Safe at last. She looked about at the trees and foliage, seeing she hadn't the slightest idea how to get home from here. Nervously, she started walking, hoping she would end up in the right spot. Anywhere was better than this camp.

****

Jack Peterson awoke from his hiding spot in the bushes to find a lovely young lady hurrying through the forest - away from the British camp. _Now they're paying prostitutes to come out here? Nasty swines. . . _Maybe he should refrain from reporting that to Benjamin - lately the man had been acting strange enough as it was. There was no use getting him all worked up over such a tiny detail. Still, somehow Jack felt there was more to this situation than what he had just witnessed. He continued to watch the woman as she wove through the trees.

****

Tavington's blue eyes opened and he stood, putting on his shirt. As he shook off the last tendrils of sleep, he remembered the girl. He chuckled just imagining how sure she felt about being able to seduce him onto her knife. Tavington did feel rather smug for resisting her though - for an innocent young girl, she was quite the temptress. Of course, he could have just taken the knife and shagged her anyway, but a lesson needed to be taught to the impudent thing.

The other men would of course pester him about the girl today as they too wanted their turns with her, but Tavington wanted to assure he would have her first. And then there was the matter of keeping this all from Cornwallis . . . Tavington's gaze drifted down to a crumpled blanket lacking the beautiful girl who had lain on it the night before. Swearing under his breath, he tugged on his clothes and rushed out of the tent to find her before someone else did.

Vivienne was beginning to panic. She seemed to have been going in circles this whole time, and the sun was up higher in the sky - most likely just past seven o'clock. Vivienne darted down a larger path that looked unfamiliar. She felt a bit of relief as she got the feeling she was moving farther away from the camp -

"Stop right there!" Vivienne looked behind her and her heart started pumping faster. Tavington was coming toward her, mounted on his horse. Acting on instinct, Vivienne ran, her feet flying along the path. She kept glancing back to see how she was faring, but Tavington was quickly gaining distance. Her backward glances soon proved to be more trouble then help; Vivienne only saw the log in her path the second before she went sailing over it, landing in a heap.

Tavington cursed again as she hit the ground. He was so close to grabbing her! Now she could be dead and therefore a total waste of time and energy. He slowed his horse, dismounted, and brought the unconscious girl back to his horse, slinging her over his mount. He rode back to camp.

****

Unbeknownst to Tavington, Jack had been watching the whole scene. Something out of the ordinary was definitely going on - either that or the prostitute had angered Tavington by running away and now she was really in for it. But perhaps she wasn't a prostitute. . . changing his mind about keeping this information to himself, Jack slipped away to make his report to Benjamin Martin.


	4. This Will All be Worth it

When Vivienne came to her senses, she was slumped against a cot, one leg stretched out before her with something warm on top of it. She shook her head to wash away the sleep, but her head throbbed painfully in response. As she pressed both hands to her aching head, a voice penetrated the mist enveloping her brain.

"You had better not pull something like that again. Insolent girls will be properly punished." To Vivienne's disgust and utter horror, a strange man wearing the uniform of a Dragoon was sitting across from her, her scraped up leg across his lap. Though it was her calf that was scraped, he had his hands clasped around her bare thigh. Instantly repulsed at the feeling of his hot hands in such an inappropriate place, she tried to squirm away from him, but he dug his fingernails hard into her leg, making her gasp sharply in pain and cease her struggling. Vivienne's chest tightened when the man's pupils dilated with an obvious desire. Just as Vivienne was about to scream for help, the swaying of the tent flaps caught her eye and Colonel Tavington entered the tent. Vivienne was surprised to feel her chest relax at his presence. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was safe from the man holding her leg.

"Private Roth! Leave us." Tavington snapped authoritatively.

"But sir - " Roth pleaded, clearly not wanting to go.

"You clearly cannot control yourself, Private. Get out of this tent," Tavington said through tight lips. As Roth began to leave, Tavington caught his arm and hissed into his ear, "Touch her again and there will be consequences." Roth knew better than to argue with this and reluctantly obeyed, leaving Tavington and Vivienne alone in the tent. Tavington sat across from Vivienne and put her leg in his lap before she could resist.

"I'm to see that your wounds are tended to. Best you don't resist." _This will all be worth it_, Tavington thought as he reluctantly bandaged the scrape on her shapely calf, craving to run his hand all the way up her leg. His touch was feather light. Surprisingly, Vivienne sighed and slumped back again, giving in. Tavington thought this a good time to try talking to her.

Excluding whores of course, a woman would not willingly sleep with a man unless she felt she knew him a bit first. Tavington knew this from experience, and he didn't want to _rape_ the girl, but there was no harm in manipulating her, toying with her a bit. She was a challenge he could definitely triumph in. Tavington glanced up at the girl, who had her eyes closed. Already she seemed to feel safe with him. Even bruised and pale-faced from exhaustion, she was still stunningly beautiful. His efforts would be worth it.

"I never did get your name," Tavington said as if they were chatting over tea. Vivienne was too tired and sore to be stubborn.

"Vivienne," she murmured. He looked up at her, pausing in bandaging her leg.

"Colonel William Tavington, leader of the First Dragoon Calvary." She nodded slightly to show she had heard him. Feeling bold, he took her hand. "It is a pleasure indeed to meet you, Vivienne." He kissed her knuckles charmingly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she pulled away in surprise, fully awake now. Vivienne's anger rose as she processed what he was trying to do.

"Your pleasure is not in _meeting_ me! Do you really find me so stupid? I know exactly why you brought me here and I shall not now, not _ever_ sleep with you or any other man here." Her eyes burned furiously and her leg shifted in his grasp. To her outrage, Tavington seemed to barely register what she had said, his face calm.

"How do you know I don't simply want someone to talk to? The other soldiers make dreadful companions, you know." He held her leg in place, keeping his eyes on her smooth, pale skin, aching to confirm that the rest of her was as perfect. Vivienne was silent. Her knuckles burned where he had kissed them. She could still feel his lips, impossibly soft for a man of his type. Tavington spoke again. "You won't miss your home." Vivienne was taken aback. How _dare_ he?

"Of course I will - do! Home is where my family is!" she spat defensively, trying again without success to move her leg out of his lap. If her mouth wasn't so dry, she would spit in his face. With a scoff, he replied,

"Family - a mother, who is controlling and uptight, and a daydreaming oaf of a father. . . Neither have your best interests in mind."

"What - how do you know all of this?" Vivienne was too confused to be outraged. Tavington glanced up at her briefly before going back to her leg, nonchalant as ever. "Before joining the King's army as my aide de camp, James Wilkins lived near you and knew your parents well. I probably know more about your family than you do."

"Oh really? And just what is it that you know?" Vivienne kept her anger under control with some difficulty.

"Your father cares more about his books and artifacts than he does about you, and your mother schemes to find you a rich husband, no matter how old or cruel, so she and her husband can live comfortably the rest of their lives. Quite terrible when even the neighbors can see this."

Vivienne was silent as his words reverberated through her mind. He was lying, he had to be lying. . . Tavington took advantage of her reaction and drove his point home.

"The future your mother has lain out for you is hardly one that will suit you." He paused slightly, his voice lush "You desire adventure, something different than the same view from a balcony for years." Vivienne was stunned into silence once again, shocked at the accuracy in his description of her feelings. "I am much the same way. We shall get along quite nicely." With too much of an information overload to say something cheeky, she fell into silence.

Something about him intrigued her. He was dangerous, she knew that much, and she felt he was baiting her, would seize her the moment she fell into his trap. But perhaps the man's behavior was a cry for help. Perhaps he had never known kindness or love and sensed she could provide both? Did he want to love her? Suddenly Vivienne was furious with herself. Tavington had burned her house down with a smile in his eyes and she had thought maybe. . . ?

What a joke! Vivienne found she had once again been caught up in her romantic fairy tales, but now it was time to be realistic. Resolving to resist his blue eyes and apparent charm, Vivienne closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep off the pain of her injuries and ignore the reluctant pleasure of Tavington's warm hand on her leg.


	5. Got Cold, Did You?

When Vivienne finally opened her bleary eyes, she was lain across Tavington's cot. Her limbs, including her bandaged leg, were spread out and her mouth tasted as if she had been sucking on a newly polished boot. Squirming, she turned her head into his pillow and tried to sleep again. The smell of soap mixed with leather and something spicy filled her nose. So this must be what Tavington smelled like - she knew she'd sniffed this scent before. There was no trace of the Colonel. Vivienne rose and peeked out the tent flap. Right outside, a group of soldiers were passing around a flask and laughing raucously. Rather early in the morning to be drinking. . . She caught a few words about whoring in town that night and immediately closed the tent flap. Hopefully they had forgotten about the "prize" Colonel Tavington had brought back from his pillage. Tavington wasn't with them now, but she had a good bet he would be tagging along that night, since he hadn't touched her yet. And men had "needs." Vivienne wrung her hands, desperately trying to discover his motives. From the way he had been looking at her, he desired her quite strongly - why hadn't he just raped her?

The laughter continued outside, sending shivers down Vivienne's spine. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and hugged her knees to her chest, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

Benjamin Martin was instantly curious after Jack Peterson's report of the prostitute's attempted escape from the British camp. More spies were sent to find out what happened to her and had nothing to report but that she was being held in Tavington's tent, most-likely against her will. When the question of rescuing her was raised, Benjamin shot it down, suggesting they should wait and see what would be done with her next.

The weeks passed and Vivienne remained unharmed. But she was far from comfortable. Despite it being summer, the nights grew bitter with cold - and the cold crept right through her thin blanket. Vivienne spent the nights shivering so hard she was exhausted by morning. After many sleepless nights, Vivienne was becoming desperate, feeling she would trade her soul for a crackling fire. She lay curled up in a ball one night, wanting sleep, begging sleep, but her body was shivering too hard to relax. Her eyes darted about for something to stop the trembles of cold. _What was warm?_ A candle would be no help, and the thought of stealing Tavington's blanket seemed much too dangerous - there was no telling what he would do if he woke. She found herself looking to Tavington's sleeping form, wrapped up in blankets. _ Body heat. . ._ She could - No, she would not resort to that. . . but how badly she wanted to stop the shivers. . . Reluctantly making her decision, Vivienne rose and crept silently towards Tavington's cot. There was just enough room for her. She slipped under the blanket beside him, her back to his. It wasn't enough - she still shook uncontrollably. Forcing aside her aversion to him, Vivienne turned over so she was facing his back. She cuddled into Tavington, his warmth spreading throughout her body. Satisfied at last, she slept.

Tavington woke early next morning, his body warmer than usual. Something was around his stomach. He looked down and found a pair of slim, pale arms wrapped around his waist. Confused, he looked over his shoulder to see Vivienne curled against him, still breathing deeply with sleep. Unable to hold back a smirk, he turned his body so she was now facing his chest, her arms still around him. He pulled her a bit closer, so they were pressed together from forehead to feet. She mumbled something in her sleep and wrapped her arms around him more tightly. He resisted a chuckle and closed his eyes once more.

Pleasant warmth engulfed Vivienne when she opened her eyes. She breathed in deeply, so very relaxed. A smell filled her nostrils - something familiar. _Clean leather and spice. . . wait. . . _ Now Vivienne was awake. She held back a squeak as she found herself cuddled into Tavington's chest. Her body was pressed tightly to his; she could feel every inch of him. Feeling her personal space so grossly invaded, she tried to put some distance between them. Vivienne couldn't move. Even in his sleep, Tavington had an iron grip. She strained to escape, but she was too close to draw enough power to push him away. Eventually surrendering, Vivienne sighed in frustration and flopped back against him. She definitely wasn't going back to sleep now.

Tavington waited several more minutes before giving in. He opened his eyes to see her staring right back at him.

"Got cold, did you?" he quipped. She narrowed her eyes.

"Please release me. This is extremely improper." He complied, keeping a straight face as he watched her stumble out of the blankets. Soon, he rose as well, dressing quickly and leaving the tent. Vivienne was careful to keep her back to him, as her cheeks were burning in embarrassment. She gripped her ratty blanket, twisting it as hard as she could. It was much better to be cold than to be warm next to that scoundrel.

She left the tent to wash in the stream without peeking out first to make sure she was alone. Ten feet away, three soldiers elbowed each other, nodding in her direction. Frightened, Vivienne pretended not to see them and started walking towards the stream. _ Bad move._ They were following her farther and farther away from camp, leering and gaining distance quickly. Anticipation gleamed in their eyes as they got closer. Vivienne's heart pounded in utter panic as she descended the hill, unable to control her feet anymore. She looked about for a weapon-

"Gentlemen! I believe you are being missed at the meeting?" Tavington sat atop his horse at the crest of the hill. The soldiers stopped, angrily turning around to meet Tavington's icy glare of disapproval. As they trudged past him, he leaned down, grabbing the shoulder of one of them. "You will learn your place, or answer to me." He released the man, shoving him forward. Tavington looked back up to meet Vivienne's frozen face. He gave her a curt nod, then turned his horse and trotted away.

Vivienne stood still for several moments, bewildered. He followed his roguish performance earlier with this act of . . . concern for her well-being? So far, this was the only kind thing he had done, but would it be the last? Was it some kind of message? _No_. For goodness sakes he was toying with her mind again. Vivienne would not be swayed so easily. _ Impress me,_ she thought obstinately, knowing it could never happen.


	6. Epiphany

Lord General Cornwallis sat pouring over a stack of papers at his desk one evening. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion - he had been having trouble sleeping lately due to the threat posed by the colonist militia and would look forward to retiring to bed after he finished reading the reports from that day. Cornwallis couldn't even summon the energy to look up as General O'Hara entered the tent.

"Sir, I've been hearing rumors a young woman is residing in Colonel Tavington's tent. Shall I investigate the matter?" O'Hara asked brusquely. The words were little more than bothersome sounds to Cornwallis.

"I. . . I'll look into it tomorrow," he replied slowly.

"If you say so, sir." With that, O'Hara was gone. Cornwallis' head fell to his desk as he could ward off sleep no longer. The Lord General had no idea what he'd just agreed to do.

Private Peter Roth scanned the camp, looking for a particular individual. When he spotted his target at last, Roth darted forward, grabbing Colonel Tavington by the forearm.

"M - might I have a few words, sir?" Roth asked quietly. Tavington nodded and the two men quickly slipped into Roth's tent.

Peter Roth could be described as a squirrelly man. His tiny green eyes darted about anxiously as he watched Tavington calmly pour wine for the two of them. Tavington handed Roth his glass, sipping the dark red liquid slowly as he waited for the man to say what he would. Roth was nervous in the presence of the Colonel, infamous for being venomous and very blunt. Roth swallowed.

"That girl. . . you have - the men have been talking. You've had her all to yourself for an awfully long time. Er. . . have you - "

"No," Tavington interrupted "I haven't touched her yet."

"But _why_?" Roth inquired, baffled as to why anyone would wait even a second before having his way with beautiful Vivienne. Tavington glanced sideways at Roth, preparing an answer when both men were alerted by the swinging tent flaps. Cornwallis' courier stood before them, holding out a folded piece of parchment to Tavington. As soon as the courier left, Roth was at Tavington's side.

"What does it say?" he asked eagerly, all thoughts of Vivienne forgotten.

"If the Lord General wanted you to know, he would have sent one for _you_," Tavington replied sharply, striding away from the Private's prying eyes to read the message. As he finished, Tavington looked up, an epiphany plain on his face.

"If you will excuse me, Private."

"Wait sir! You never told - "

But it was too late. The only evidence of Tavington's presence in the tent was an empty wine glass.

"I have good news for you, Vivienne." Tavington was standing over her several mornings later, looking amused with a barely concealed smirk. She didn't move from her spot on the ground, but looked up at him. "Today we are traveling to the governor's plantation for a grand soiree. We will be staying for several nights so Lord General Cornwallis can make some shipping arrangements." He turned toward his trunk on the other side of the tent. "Surely you'll be most happy to be in a civilized area once again." Vivienne didn't reply as she watched him pack his things. Perhaps she could share her dilemma with one of the authorities at the governor's plantation! Yes, and then escape with her honor still intact. She smiled as she pictured the look of stupefaction on Tavington's face when he realized her to be gone before he could get his hands on her.

As a good part of the British army galloped over the hill, a magnificent mansion rose before them. Surrounding it were thousands upon thousands of acres of fields lush with cotton and tobacco crops. Governor Lucas certainly knew how to put his money on show. Vivienne was too dumbstruck from the view to notice the way Tavington's gloved hands lingered on her waist as he lifted her down from his horse. Grabbing her wrist, he placed it on the crook of his elbow.

"Hold my arm, and keep your mouth shut," he muttered to her, making sure to block her from Cornwallis' view. Seeing no obvious reason to object, Vivienne obeyed as the soldiers followed Cornwallis up to the grand entryway. She was wearing a cloak - Tavington's modest attempt to cover up her tattered nightgown.

The grand doors swung open to reveal smiling butlers and maids standing through the doorway to greet the guests. A finely dressed man who Vivienne assumed could only be the governor stepped out of the crowd. He grinned with perfectly white teeth.

"Ah, the esteemed General Cornwallis! It gives me great pleasure to meet you at last, sir!" Cornwallis smiled briefly and shook Governor Lucas' hand before entering the grand house. As Tavington and Vivienne were not too far behind the General, the Governor's eyes landed on Vivienne who, being the only woman arriving with the soldiers, stood out quite conspicuously. "And you must be Mrs. William Tavington! Quite the beauty, eh?" Vivienne's eyes widened and she tried to choke out contradicting words, but Tavington spoke first.

"Yes, she is." With that he led her past the train of maids and butlers to a single maid waiting near the entrance to an elaborate hallway. "This, my darling, is where I leave you. Until tonight." Shocked, Vivienne stood staring after him as he walked back to the soldiers. The maid cleared her throat.

"If you would just follow me, miss" Vivienne complied, her head still reeling. Tavington couldn't possibly want to sleep with her so badly that he would prepare this little skit! Vivienne, who was not present for Tavington's many uncontrollable humiliations due to the "ghost" Benjamin Martin, did not understand that when a man is desperate for control, he will do all in his power to control what he can.


	7. Quite the Vision

Vivienne was brought to a fine wooden door where she could hear giggling and the rustling of fabric on the other side. The maid knocked on the door. A moment later, a pretty blonde woman opened it, looking Vivienne up and down.

Apparently satisfied, she smiled and took Vivienne's arm. The door was slammed in the little maid's face and Vivienne was brought out of the darkly glamorous hallway into a gaudy fairyland of dresses and clouds of perfume. She blinked at the sudden light.

"You must be Vivienne Tavington!" The blonde woman was leading her through the room of lovely ladies getting ready for the ball over to a group of tittering girls, all about fourteen.

"You're the only one of us here who has married! And to the dashing Colonel Tavington, no less! What's it like? What's _he_ like?" The girls all gathered round, faces glowing with anticipation. Vivienne, finally figuring out what they wanted to know about, flushed deeply.

"Well, ah. . . we've only been married a week or so and, well, we. . . sleep in a tent, so there hasn't been much _space_ for umm, ah. . ." the girls tittered again, but the blonde woman smiled and put her hands on either side of Vivienne's face.

"How upsetting that you haven't had a chance to experience your wedding night yet! But don't worry, I suspected this would happen!" Vivienne's insides seemed to twist and knot together

"Just wait and see the room I picked out for you two! And of course we have more lovely clothes for you than. . . that." Vivienne's nightdress was dirty and tattered by now.

"When we're finished with you, he'll be aching to have you right there on the dance floor!" Vivienne felt she would faint. Luckily, the blonde girl seemed to sense her discomfort.

"Well then, we simply cannot put you in a clean dress when _you_ are still so filthy!" With that, Vivienne was escorted through the fairyland to an equally beautiful bathroom where she was shown to a large tub filled with steaming water.

Looking down at the bath, scented with fragrant rose petals, she quickly removed her clothes and sank into the water. She had barely gotten in when maids came forward toting bottles of all shapes and sizes.

They washed her hair and scrubbed her body, filthy with grass stains and road dust, with sweet floral shampoos and soaps. At last, when the maids were finished, Vivienne toweled off and sighed, her body tingling with warmth and delightful cleanliness. It was but a moment later when the blonde woman strode up, carrying something red over her arm.

"Try it on, then!" She shoved the red thing at Vivienne. Vivienne took it timidly, all traces of delight gone, and walked behind the dressing screen to put on this red dress. There was no mirror behind the screen, so she had no way of seeing herself as she gingerly stepped out for all to see.

They gasped, staring at her with huge, jealous eyes. The blonde woman looked excited as she examined Vivienne.

"You are quite the vision beneath that grime. Have a look for yourself." She stepped away from the mirror and what Vivienne saw there made her go pale.

The crimson dress was tight, to say in the least. It clung to her waist, bust, and hips much like her corset did, but frighteningly more so. The neckline was wide and low, exposing much of Vivienne's cleavage and pressing her breasts closer together, which gave the illusion they were much larger. The sleeves flowed just past her elbows, highlighting the pale curves of her forearms. The rich, deep fabric itself seemed to hint at her imminent "wedding night." She turned away from the mirror, facing her admirers.

"There is no way I can go out looking like this. I have. . . too much of me on show." A flat-chested redhead scrambled over to Vivienne.

"If you have a beautiful body, why keep it covered up? And don't you want your husband to be proud to call you his wife?" Vivienne didn't have time to scream how she was _not_ Tavington's wife, and he didn't _deserve_ to be proud of her, because the blonde girl dragged her over to a vanity table, sat her down, and began brushing Vivienne's long, thick hair.

"Prudence is right, you know. And if you belong to Colonel William Tavington, he will let no other man will touch you." _That's precisely what I'm afraid of_, Vivienne thought, her stomach twisting in nervousness once again.

"My name is Margaret. I know you're Vivienne. I have the most delightful idea for your hair!" As Margaret twisted, draped and braided Vivienne's long brunette locks, the time passed quickly and before any of the girls knew it, evening was upon them, and the dance would be beginning.


	8. Temptation

The ladies were to be presented any moment now. Vivienne stood like an ice sculpture among the rest of the animated girls at the entrance to the ballroom. _How am I to - _ Before Vivienne could finish her thought, the doors opened, light streaming into the dark hallway, all eyes drawn to the rainbow of dresses.

The ladies strode out, smiling at the many handsome soldiers. Despite the large group of beautiful girls, much attention was drawn to Vivienne in her bold red gown, who refused to meet the gazes of her admirers.

She looked straight ahead at the glittering night sky through the window, her feet stopping just yards inside the ballroom, refusing to move any further. It was not long before a leather-gloved hand brushed her bare arm, sending a shiver through her body.

She forced herself to meet Tavington's eyes. He was looking at her in that _way_ again. That same way he looked at her on the night he first set eyes upon her in her bedroom. Burning lust amplified his wandering gaze and Vivienne felt a jolting tingle race down her spine, but she met his eyes.

The other party-goers were watching them intensely, just waiting for them to tackle each other and make love right there on the dance floor, but the music of the first dance broke the spell and soon the floor was alive with swirling skirts and dancing smiles. Tavington forced himself to be a gentleman.

"Would you care to dance?" He held out a hand to her. Not knowing her mistake, she lightly took it. The minuet was the first dance of the evening. The simple, smooth feeling of Tavington's leather gloves on Vivienne's fingertips was so much more seductive than it would seem to those watching.

Vivienne's back was rigid as an iron pole as she gracefully stepped around her handsome partner, his icy eyes trapping her, locking her gaze with his. As all the dancers moved into the position to circle around the room, Tavington stepped closer to Vivienne, his hand pressed to the small of her back. Vivienne had to hold back a shiver as he touched her. She could feel the heat, the desire coursing through him at even this light touch.

"You look lovely," he murmured as they danced around the room.

She acknowledged his compliment with the slightest of nods, implying she did not want to talk to him. He either didn't catch the hint, or ignored it completely. _More likely the latter, _Vivienne thought.

"Dressing up for someone special?" Tavington said. Even his voice frightened Vivienne. Knowing her cheeks were probably red as apples by now, she threw back her shoulders and put her chin in the air, determined to distract herself from the uncomfortable feeling she couldn't escape.

For the next part of the dance, the partners formed groups of four, the gentlemen making an archway with their hands for the ladies to come through. Vivienne noticed her archway was rather small compared to those of the other dancers. Trying to seem nonchalant, she ducked through the archway quickly, but not quickly enough. Tavington caught the warm, sultry scent of her hair as she squeezed past him. She even smelled magnificent.

His eyes were pulled to her bosom as if by some magnetic force when she came close to take his hand again. He swallowed, desperately trying to keep his mind blank. _ Later. . . _he reminded himself. He forced his eyes up to her face, but this time it was her red-stained lips that captivated him.

_Oh God. . ._ Tavington had the overwhelming urge to rip off that tantalizing red dress. His knees nearly gave out with the effort not to, but he was saved from his temptation as the dance ended.

With a smug smile at Tavington, Colonel Bordon came up and swirled Vivienne away. A slim redhead shimmied up to Tavington and fixed him with a seductive glance. Any other time, it might have awakened his desire, but not tonight. Tonight he could think only of Vivienne.

* * *

Richard Carlton mingled with the party guests, observing the happenings of this dance. Benjamin Martin was still eager to have his revenge on the cruel Colonel Tavington - and the fact that the prostitute had only been held in _his_ tent was slightly suspicious.

Then again, Richard thought, there was no sense jumping to conclusions. Perhaps Tavington favored this particular prostitute for her skill and it was nothing more than that. Richard, like many of the other guests, noticed the tension between Tavington and the prostitute. Why would a prostitute be invited to a grand ball anyhow? Utterly baffled, Richard continued to watch.

Richard was not the only observer of Colonel Tavington and Vivienne. Many young ladies had eyed Vivienne with the utmost envy as Tavington chose her for the first dance. The colonel was a _very_ eligible bachelor and the young ladies could not take their eyes off him. Unlike Vivienne, any one of these women would have eagerly submitted to a night with this man. Two pretty sisters stood near each other, staring at Tavington so hard he must have felt it. Their expressions of longing were glued to his form as he swirled about the room.

* * *

Held in her new partner's arms, Vivienne felt she could move again. When she had danced with Tavington, it was as if he had frozen her mind and body with a single, heat-filled blue gaze. Now free of this enchantment, Vivienne looked about the large room, searching for someone who might help her. Bordon noticed her apparent distress and gently touched her cheek, bringing her attention back to him.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, his deep voice soothingly concerned. Vivienne opened her mouth to tell him of her dilemma, then abruptly shut it. Despite Bordon's concern, she did not trust him anymore than she trusted Tavington. Forcing a smile, Vivienne shook her head and continued scrutinizing the elegant ballroom, not noticing the way Bordon's breathing thickened as his gaze skimmed down her body.

Her gaze rested at last on a finely-dressed middle-aged man talking to Cornwallis in a jovial tone. _The governor_. Vivienne politely excused herself and made her way across the dance floor to Governor Lucas on the other side of the room, ignoring the feel of Bordon's eyes on her back.

Tavington had been unable to look away from Vivienne as she danced with her new partner. He followed her gaze as she looked at the governor. It was only when she broke away from her partner and began walking briskly towards Governor Lucas that Tavington too excused himself and fought through the crowd behind her.

_So close now, so close to freedom!_ Vivienne was only feet away from Governor Lucas now. Pushing past the last dancing couple, she stood before him.

"Governor Lucas, I - " she was interrupted by a familiar cool voice.

"Your lordship, my wife greatly admires your home here and wanted to thank you for the lovely ball." Tavington stood next to Vivienne, looking calm and collected. Vivienne couldn't help but wonder with annoyance how he had gotten there so quickly. She should have known he would be watching her. Governor Lucas looked to be not suspicious in the least, even as Vivienne pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. The Governor only smiled at them.

"You are very welcome Lady Tavington. I am pleased you are enjoying yourself." He was entirely oblivious, though Cornwallis studied Vivienne, something appearing to be working through his mind.

"You have a wife, Tavington?" Cornwallis looked down to their ringless fingers, Tavington smoothly edged his hip in front of Vivienne's, hiding their hands.

"Yes, sir."

Panicking, Vivienne tried again.

"Sir, you don't understand - " Tavington interrupted her again.  "If you'll excuse us, your lordship." With that he grabbed her arm and led her through the dancers and out the ballroom doors. Vivienne felt warning bells ringing in her ears, but she was helpless in his grasp.

Down many hallways he led her, walking faster and faster until they finally stopped in front of a statue of King George. Tavington flung her before him so he blocked her only way of escape. He released her arm at last, almost chuckling as he turned to face her.

"Just when I thought you would behave. . . I do believe you are more devious than I gave you credit for, Vivienne." Defeated once again, Vivienne was trembling with rage.

"You will call me Miss Kent, as is appropriate for how well we know each other." She couldn't hold back a small sneer as she spat her words in his face. Looking completely unfazed by this, he replied,

"On the contrary, _Miss Kent_, I believe I will soon know you better than any man ever has." He smiled slowly at her, allowing himself to relish the vanquished look on her face as her nervousness intensified.

She was no longer angry, he saw, but instead worried at what he would do next. _And worried you should be_, he thought, his eyes raking over her form once more.

"A dimly-lit hallway is quite a charming place. Almost. . . arousing." Tavington's subtle words and smoldering eyes promised something very promiscuous indeed and Vivienne got the feeling that if she came even a step closer to him, he would have her roughly against the stone walls.

Frightened at the way his eyes darkened with desire in this deserted hallway, Vivienne's only instinct was to move as far away from him as possible. She backed up slowly, not wanting to run lest sudden movement instigate an attack. Soon she could go no further, as the statue of King George was inches behind her.

But Tavington only drew closer. Vivienne realized all at once how much taller than her he was, how much stronger. Her heart seemed to beat double-time causing her chest to heave uncontrollably, not helping her situation. There was no escape. He was right in front of her now. His hand rose to her neck to trail slowly down to her collarbone, down between her breasts...

"There's no need to be frightened of me," Tavington crooned softly, dangerously. Vivienne couldn't hold back a shiver as his leather-clad fingers traced the neckline of her dress, moving slowly over her pale, bare skin.

Tavington noticed her reaction and smiled faintly, enjoying this. He leaned in closer, his other hand slipped to the small of her back, pressing her into him. Her lips parted involuntarily as the distance between them shortened.

She would be all his now. His face was but inches from hers, his breath warm on her tingling lips. Just as Vivienne was enjoying this closeness, thinking she might like for him to kiss her, he pulled away. She found herself pathetically leaning toward him, wanting the warmth to return. Tavington took her chin in one hand, pulling her ear towards his mouth, allowing her to briefly glimpse his victorious smirk.

"We shall finish this somewhere more. . . comfortable. Until tonight." His lips brushed her jaw and he was gone. Vivienne stood alone, her vision still hazy from the sudden stimulation. Her body was reeling, missing his closeness.

She sank to the floor as her legs threatened to collapse. What an idiot she was. How could she let him get to her so easily? _You have more control than that,_ Vivienne scolded herself, trying to stand again. She had been foolish, almost giving him what he wanted. But why had she? She hated him. But oh, the feelings that spread through her body when he touched her. . . the leather sleek on her breasts.

Vivienne had once overheard her mother gossiping with some friends about unmarried Anne Pettigrew, who had become pregnant at the same age Vivienne was at the time - 15. May Kent had verbally butchered any reputation Anne might have retained to anyone who would listen. Poor Anne walked stiffly about the streets with her head down, ignoring the whispers of _"whore"_ and _"trollop."_ At the time Vivienne had agreed with the accusatory townspeople, but now she understood how such a fate had befallen Miss Pettigrew. To be touched intimately felt magnificent and so deliciously wrong, and Vivienne had gotten only the slightest taste. . .

Shaking the oncoming swoon away, Vivienne had the shocking realization that _she_ was nothing better than a whore - and pathetically easy to manipulate. She slowly found her way back to the ballroom, tail between her legs.

"Vivienne, there you are!" Margaret and several other girls intercepted her as she entered the hallway. "We were beginning to wonder where you had . . . gone off to." Some of the girls giggled a bit. Vivienne felt defensive at their assumptions, unfortunately correct.

"I needed a walk to clear my head. It was warm inside the ballroom," she offered, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

"And did you walk _alone_?" Prudence purred, her tone thick with innuendo. Margaret cleared her throat, silencing the giggling.

"We have a few surprises for you, Vivienne. Come along." Margaret took her hand and began leading her back to their dressing room. Suspecting what these surprises might have to do with, Vivienne tried to dig her heels into the floor, firing out protests. She would not be seeing that infuriating Colonel anymore tonight.

"Really, you don't have to go to all that trouble - "

"Vivienne! Of _course_ we do. It's not every day we get to help a young lady plan her wedding night!" Vivienne gulped down bile as they reached the door. Smiling, Margaret gestured to a nightgown on the bed. "_Voila_!" Vivienne felt her heart sink low in her chest as she gazed upon the beautiful material.

The nightgown was ivory and had a corset on top with a long gauzy skirt following suit, slit up past the thigh on one side. Vivienne sighed, racking her brain to come up with an excuse not to wear this when Margaret put both hands on Vivienne's shoulders and pushed her towards the dressing screen, flinging the nightgown after her.

Vivienne grudgingly put on the night dress, cringing at its tight fit. _ Just get it over with_. She strode out in front of the mirror before she could lose her resolve and released a sigh of distress upon seeing her sensual reflection.

Vivienne looked even more stunning now than in the red dress. The skirt of the nightgown was slit up to her hip, her breasts threatening to bulge out of the tight corset. She stood there, shoulders slumping, staring at her reflection. Margaret and the other girls entered the room, cooing over her. Margaret held up a pair of lacy white garters.

"Put these on, Vivienne." Vivienne obeyed, her nervousness exploding through her anger and settling to rest on the inner layers of her body. Her hands started trembling as she pictured with fear the look Tavington would give her when he saw her. Margaret saw this and let out a bark of laughter.

"Don't be afraid, Vivienne. Even if you are clumsy, all he will be able to think about is how beautiful you look tonight." She moved behind Vivienne and started undoing the braids and twists in her hair.

"Besides, you have nothing to worry about" she paused, lifting her eyes to meet Vivienne's in the mirror "The word is that Mr. Tavington is very. . . _experienced_."

Vivienne grimaced slightly, trying to search in her mind for something to calm herself. She could hold him off. She would just have to be relentlessly stiff. If she was cold and ill-mannered, there was no way he would still want her.

Margaret finished with Vivienne's hair, fluffing it a bit so it cascaded in glossy waves down her back.

"You're ready, Vivienne. Now follow me." Margaret took Vivienne's hand and lead her out of the fairy room, the younger girls gawking as she went past. Some looked excited, some looked jealous, and still others seemed to share Vivienne's nervousness.

She gazed upon their faces for what felt like the last time as the heavy wooden door closed behind she and Margaret, shutting out the pastel colors and gentle light.


	9. Indulgence

"We're nearly there now. Ah, here." Margaret stopped in front of a dark wooden door and turned around, clasping both of Vivienne's hands in hers.

"Don't you be nervous now. This is something you're supposed to look forward to!" When Vivienne didn't move a muscle, Margaret raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly.

"Mr. Tavington will take _very_ good care of you. May you be blessed with many children!" With that, Margaret swung open the door and pushed Vivienne inside. Chancing a look away from her toes, Vivienne's jaw dropped.

The room was enormous and lavishly decorated. To the left, a crackling fire stood in a gargantuan fireplace at one end of the room, soft, black leather couches standing before the fireplace on top of what looked to be a bearskin rug. Cappuccino colored stone covered the floor and dark red curtains hung sensually at the enormous windows. Then, as Vivienne's inspection brought her eyes to the right side of the room, she felt cold with fear again. An elaborately carved double bed sat there. It almost seemed to be leering at her.

Tavington stood silently several feet behind her, examining her outfit. From what he could see, she had been well prepared for her "wedding night." The low cut of the nightdress was delicious as the neckline of the red dress, but he rather liked the look of the nightgown - it was more innocent, subtly sexy.

His eyes were drawn to the high slit of the skirt, which exposed her garter-covered legs, allowing only a delightful sliver of her thigh showing. Those garters would be the first to go. His breathing thickened as he anticipated winning his game.

"I see you've finally decided to make an appearance, Miss Kent." Vivienne held back a squeak as Tavington strode up behind her. She swirled to face him, searching his body position for any signs of attack. There were none. He looked as if he had just sauntered in from the party. His hair was still pulled back in a queue, but he was wearing only the loose, white shirt with his regular black breeches.

She looked at him cautiously, unaware that she was curling her shoulders forward, trying to seem as small and unnoticeable as possible. Her sudden shyness seemed only to amuse him. He smiled easily and stepped closer to her.

"You're nervous," He put his finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. "You can't have forgotten what passed between us but an hour ago, Miss Kent - or shall I call you Vivienne?" His eyes flicked toward the bed.

Vivienne forced herself to stand up straighter and move a safe distance away from him.

"I will not be going to bed with you, Colonel."

"Now now Vivienne, surely you wouldn't be so naive as to assume you will be making the rules here."

"You wouldn't rape me . . ." He picked up on the unease in her voice, feeding off of it.

"That is entirely your choice, Vivienne. I intend to have you with or without your consent - but allow me to warn you, rape is far more painful on the receiving end, especially so for a virgin." A wicked smirk stretched across his lips.

Not knowing how to reply, Vivienne turned her back and walked away from him. She felt a rush of helpless panic as the sound of his footfalls tapped up behind her.

"I shall sleep with no one but my husband," she stated defiantly, staring forward, but feeling the heat of his imposing presence. She felt incredibly vulnerable with her back to the enemy, but she mustn't show any fear. He looked at her tensed back with interest, raising his eyebrows.

"As far as everyone knows, I am your husband." Vivienne's jaw tightened.

"I never married you." She emphasized her words by stepping further away from him, her palms beginning to sweat. Silence hung in the air between them for but a moment - Tavington's cool hands descended on Vivienne's shoulders. He began pushing her from behind, gently but gripping too hard for her to escape, toward the bed.

Guessing his intentions, Vivienne tried to squirm away, but she was held tightly in his viselike grip. Tavington stopped several feet away from the bed, still standing behind her. He leaned in, brushing her hair aside so his mouth was near her ear.

"You might have a bed like this one for your wedding night."

His hands slid away from her shoulders, down her sides as he dragged out his words, his voice low and seductive. Vivienne found herself immobile as the warmth of his touch seemed to stoke the reluctant flames within her that were so desperately crying for more.

"A bed you would share with your husband."

His hands rested on her waist as he continued his husky soliloquy.

"Surely, on the special occasion in which you consummate your loving marriage, you will want to please your husband the first time you are truly _together _. . ."

Tavington had slowly pulled her towards him so her back was to his chest, her neck brushing his collarbone. She could feel his arousal pressed to the back of her thigh, but instead of frightening her, it excited her, rousing her own desire.

"The ability to satisfy your lover in bed comes naturally to no one," he nearly purred.

His hands were on her hips now, spreading warmth through her loins down to her feet.

"The only way to truly please him is to know what you are facing; to _practice_." His words were warm and pleasant, tickling Vivienne's ear. Her eyes closed of their own accord, her chest moving up and down with her deep breathing. She almost felt this was her real wedding night.

Tavington's gentle kiss touched the spot just below her ear, his lips trailing down her neck. Gasping at this intimate touch, Vivienne had forgotten her urgent need to stop him from . . . what was it again?

Still gripping her hips, he turned her around so she was facing him. He pushed her against the bedpost, his hands tingling to feel her bare skin. She spoke, her sweet breath flowing over him.

"And how am I to practice?" she asked in a sultry voice, already knowing the answer. Tavington couldn't hold back a sneer. She had been successfully, and very easily, seduced. He had triumphed in this challenge. Now to claim his reward . . .

"It would please me to teach you _everything_ you need to know."

As if these words were a signal to have at it, they both dove in at the same time. His lips descended on hers, his hands roaming, clutching every part of her within reach, holding her tightly to him. He wanted to taste her, wanted to feel every inch of her, wanted to make her his, so no other man would dare touch her.

Vivienne was nearly as eager as he was, her hands on either side of his face. She was unsure of what to do, but his kiss awoke strong feelings in her she had never grasped before. Her fingers tore at the band that held his hair; she soon had removed the band, digging her fingers into his scalp, encouraging him to kiss her harder, faster. His kiss moved down her neck, down to her collarbone. Her chest heaved and she released a breathless moan.

They had collapsed onto the floor, he on top and she on the bottom, their legs unable to hold them up any longer. Both were struggling to breathe between fierce, draining kisses. Vivienne writhed beneath him, her skin burning everywhere he touched.

As his kisses moved down to the neckline of her gown, his lips pressing hard against her breast, her back arched and her nails dug into his back. Tavington reached around and grasped both her wrists in one hand. He pinned them above her head, his other hand trailing down her body. She let out a small groan - how she ached for more!

Tavington released her wrists and pulled her up so she was straddling his lap. She arched her hips into him, the feeling of the hardness beneath her sending waves of heat coursing through her. Tavington drew in a shaky breath at her closeness. The sheen of sweat on her skin, the bulge of her breasts above the rim of her corset was just at his eye level. He would only be able to stand her exploration for a few moments longer . . .

Not breaking the kiss, Vivienne reached up to his shoulders and pushed the white fabric of his shirt down so it was gathered at his waist. Touching his hot skin nearly sent her into a frenzy. She dragged her hands down his muscular chest, his stomach, his arms faster and faster.

Her nails grazing his skin made him gasp aloud, the pleasurable feeling urging him to rip away the damned corset. Vivienne wanted her clothes off too; she wanted to feel his delightful hands, his soft lips on her bare skin.

Suddenly he stood, pulling her up with him. They stumbled forward, Vivienne's back hitting the cool wall.

The cold sensation against her burning skin caused her to writhe, pressing herself into Tavington. Breathing hard, he pulled just far away enough from her to look into her eyes. They were glazed over with desire and warmth, hungry for more.

"This. . . this is," Vivienne gasped, not knowing how to put her feelings into words.

"This, Vivienne, is pleasure," he breathed back at her, his voice throaty. Vivienne's lips parted and he took advantage of this, plunging his tongue into her sweet mouth. His hands angled up her outer thighs, his powerful fingers coming to meet at the soft fold of flesh between her legs.

Tavington felt Vivienne gasp beneath his mouth as she anticipated what he was going to do. Using his thumbs, he gently teased her, moving his fingers farther and farther back until he could feel the wetness of her, waiting for him. Without warning, his thumb drove into the hot, wet chamber he would explore at last.

A small mewl tore from Vivienne as she reaped the swirls of rapture he brought with only a single finger.

"More," she whispered, desperate for the mounting delight. Without a word, his index finger joined his thumb, pinching and prodding her sensitive flesh until she moaned, her hips pulsating to his steady rhythm.

Suddenly, he withdrew from her, wanting to bring her to her peak and satisfy his own straining arousal at the same time.

"I want you," she murmured breathily, her eyelids hooded with lust.

"And have me you shall, my darling," he groaned into her ear, nipping her neck on the way up.

Tavington knew he couldn't stand this foreplay much longer. He wanted her naked so he could claim her completely.

"I have your consent?" he gasped huskily between kisses. Pulling away for the briefest moment, she whispered,

"Oh yes." He smiled beneath her kiss, his ache to be within her intensifying. They fell onto the bed, the coverlet warming quickly under the heat of their passion. At last the corset was loose enough for him to remove, and he began to push it down her waist, she helping him -

"TAVINGTON!" The lovers froze in removing Vivienne's corset, heads swiveling to identify the intruder.

General Cornwallis stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage. Vivienne tried to shy away from Tavington, very much embarrassed, but he held her tightly beneath him. Cornwallis's scrutinizing glare moved over their sweaty, glowing bodies, tousled clothes, wild eyes.

With every detail he noticed, the angrier he became. Rushing over to the bedside, he grabbed Vivienne's upper arm, yanking her upright. She was a rather pitiful sight with the trembling hand of her free arm clutching the loose corset to her, hair tangled, falling messily over her pale face. Her swollen lips were set in a fearful grimace.

Tavington stood, possessively wanting to tear her out of Cornwallis's grip. _That was my prize . . . _ Before Tavington could even open his mouth, Cornwallis launched into a rant.

"Look at this, Tavington, look at _this_!" Cornwallis boomed, shaking Vivienne, who had squeezed her eyes shut.

"Going whoring with the other soldiers is one thing, but taking advantage of an innocent young girl is another entirely! Do you really find me so stupid as to being fooled into thinking _this_ is your wife?! You have not only brought dishonor on this girl and her family, but also the whole British army once _again_!"

Vivienne's eyes opened, narrowing immediately.

"He did not take advantage of me! I am not so stupid," she spat quivering with anger.

Appearing surprised that she had even bothered to speak, Cornwallis paused before fixing her with a threatening stare.

"Foolish child! You know nothing of this man's manipulation. He doesn't love you. You will not lay with a man who is not your husband in my presence, especially not one of my soldiers! And let me give you a bit of advice, impudent girl," Cornwallis brought her pale face close to his raging red one "Colonel William Tavington is the last man any self-respecting woman should ever want to marry! Now get out of my sight!"

He flung Vivienne out into the hallway, slamming the door before her stunned face. Tavington clenched his jaw hard to stem his fury. If Cornwallis had been anyone but the Lord General of the British army, Tavington would have killed him on the spot. Cornwallis turned to Tavington, looking exhausted.

"You never rest, do you, Colonel? Sometimes I truly believe you act this way to torment me." Tavington didn't say a word, but glared at Cornwallis until the general got the message and left the room.

Tavington resisted the urge to drive his fist into the wall. Vivienne was gone and so were his chances of satisfying the near painful tenderness of his manhood. With an irritated sigh, he sat back into one of the couches and unbuttoned his breeches.

This time he would have to do it himself.


	10. Unexpected Bliss

Vivienne was running through the hallway, tears beginning to gather in her eyes, blurring her vision. She ran blindly until she tripped and fell, sliding into a curled up ball of snot and tears on the smooth floor. Vivienne didn't bother getting up - her legs would have failed to hold her if she had tried. She lay there and sobbed, sobbed for embarrassment at looking like a whore in front of the Lord General, sobbed at her despicable lack of self-control. She sobbed hardest for the fact that she had savored every second Tavington's body was touching hers. Vivienne clenched her hands into fists until her nails came away bloody. She was a wild animal - a bitch in heat. She had nearly allowed the man who destroyed her home, tormented her thoughts, and ruined her image to possess what belonged to her future husband and no one else. She had every intention of giving him exactly what he wanted the moment his lips had touched hers.

Vivienne's sobs stopped as she heard the sound of boots on the floor, far away, but getting closer. She felt too weary and ashamed to meet this person's eyes, let alone get up and escape, so she let her eyelids flutter closed, forcing them to remain still when she felt the shadow fall over her.

"What did he do to her?"

"Not as hot as he thinks he is, eh?"

Vivienne's curiosity overcame her embarrassment and she let her eyes open just a crack. Several dark figures stood over her. Their voices were familiar, but Vivienne, in her disoriented state, could not place them.

Suddenly she was being picked up by a pair of strong arms and was carried off down the hallway. Starting to panic, Vivienne made the mistake of opening her eyes, looking up into her rescuer's face.

Private Roth was leering down at her. A short scream escaped Vivienne before her mouth was covered with a large hand. Vivienne recognized three other soldiers who were under Tavington's command.

Her panic escalated. A hot, desperate rush of nausea coursed through her as she predicted what they wanted her for.

Roth was the one covering Vivienne's mouth, but it was one of the bigger, more muscular Dragoons who spoke to Vivienne as they all moved briskly down the hall.

"So he's finally taken his turn with you then?" The intimidating man said with a sneer "Oh, that's right, Cornwallis was 'mysteriously' tipped off about Mr. Tavington's plans. Which _loyal_ soldier would do such a thing?" The other Dragoons laughed along with him. Private Roth's tongue flicked out to wet his lips, a smile growing on his face as he regarded Vivienne with fierce excitement in his eyes.

"I suppose this means we'll be the ones having the first turn with you after all."

So it was one of them who had informed Cornwallis of Tavington's rendezvous with Vivienne. She swallowed hard, feeling faint. So her horrible nightmare of being group-raped was to come true. Vivienne could only hope _someone_ had heard the short scream she had managed to utter before it was stifled.

Vivienne was intensely aware of her surroundings as she was carried to a dark wooden door, much like the one Tavington had been waiting behind. Vivienne found herself wishing very hard that she could be back with Tavington in that room now. He frightened her, yes, but not in the terrifying way these men and their glowing, greedy eyes paralyzed her with fear.

The door opened into a room lit only by a crackling fire. Vivienne was quickly deposited on a rug next to the fire. The dark, leering shapes of the men quickly surrounded her. Roth leaned down and tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

"You're such a lovely young thing. Pity anything left to salvage of your reputation will be gone in the next few minutes." His squinty dark eyes were wide with dark mirth and anticipation. Roth stood, releasing her.

"This was my idea, so I shall have her first." He sounded strangely confident. The other men complied. Vivienne was grasped around the waist from behind and flung onto a bed several feet from the fire. Roth was leaning over her as she raised herself up on her elbows. Looking slightly crazed, he smiled at her.

"This is for Tavington's superior attitude!" His fist connected painfully with her jaw, sending fireworks of color before her eyes. Before Vivienne could grasp what was going on, her corset was torn from her body. Roth leaned over her again, his eyes on her breasts as he lowered himself to her. Vivienne slapped him across his cheek as hard as she could, trembling with fear and rage as he recoiled.

"I would rather share Tavington's bed than yours any day," she snarled, trying to maintain any bit of dignity she could hold on to.

The room was silent with shock for but a moment before Vivienne was assaulted again.

"Impudent bitch!" Roth furiously grabbed her hair, forcing her head back violently. As Vivienne cried out, more hands were upon her. A hand was pressed tightly over Vivienne's mouth so she couldn't scream. Her screams were confined to her head, desperation coursing through her mind. A fresh wave of terror cut through Vivienne as her skirt was pushed up to her hips. She squirmed, trying to get her skirt back down, but a knee was placed firmly between her legs.

"Look at that, she's already wet for me!" Roth said, triumphantly as his hand went to the front of his breeches. Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut, still able to hear the cruel laughter, but not able to cover her ears.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, smothering the laughter. A gurgle came from above Vivienne and she opened her eyes to see Roth, staring down at a bloody hole in his chest. A trickle of blood oozed from his mouth as he met her eyes, then collapsed, falling heavily to the floor. Vivienne was released and she rolled onto her side, quickly clasping the bed cover to her naked chest.

Tavington stood in the doorway, his pistol still in the air. His body position suggested his usual coolness, but his eyes were raging. Captain Bordon stood slightly behind the Colonel, his expression unreadable.

"Unless one of you wants to join him," Tavington indicated Roth's corpse "I suggest leaving this room right now and take this," he nudged at Roth's corpse with his foot "with you."

"Cornwallis will hear about - "

A bullet silenced one of the men as he foolishly spoke out.

The remaining two men looked at each other, then made a dash for the hallway, dragging Roth's body behind them. Tavington let them pass, watching until he was sure they were gone. Then he turned his blue eyes on Vivienne. Bordon murmured something Vivienne couldn't hear before turning on his heel and leaving.

Colonel Tavington couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of pity for Vivienne as she lay there, desperately clutching the bed cover to her with trembling hands, red marks covering her neck, back, and chest. Tavington took a step closer, but stopped when the animal-like fear in Vivienne's eyes escalated.

"M-my corset," she ordered, trying to appear unaffected even as her her voice wavered. Tavington picked it up and set it on the bed before her, feeling a strange admiration for her ability to pull herself together after her experience. Vivienne's lips tightened as his gaze never left her.

"Turn around."

He obeyed, listening to her soft gasp as the pressure of the corset made her realize her bruises. Vivienne stood shakily, then promptly collapsed on the floor, unconscious. Tavington whirled around at the sound of her body hitting the floor, going to her side at once.

"Vivienne." It was Tavington. He crouched down next to her, shaking her shoulder. "Vivienne! Miss Kent!" He almost sounded worried. _Good._ Yet Vivienne found herself wanting to open her eyes and put her arms around his strong neck. Tavington scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to his room. He was about to lay her on the couch when she pressed her hand flat to his chest.

"Hold me," Vivienne commanded in a soft voice, needing someone to comfort her, seeking comfort in the one who had tormented her so. Surprisingly, he obeyed, sitting on the couch nearest to the still-roaring fire, Vivienne in his lap. She leaned her head on his chest, sighing as his arms closed around her. She closed her eyes, trying to forget the current circumstances and focus only on the warmth spreading through her. _ Bliss. . ._

Never had Tavington simply sat with such a lovely young lady in his lap just to. . . sit. It had always seemed a waste of time. But he remained still, let her draw strength from him. Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, he rather liked holding her, liked the feeling of protecting her. Tavington lifted a hand to stroke her hair, which was soft and silky despite being yanked around by Private Roth. The fire flickered, causing fluttering shadows to sweep across Vivienne's beautiful face. For once, Tavington was content to look, but not touch.

"Thank you for saving me," Vivienne murmured against him.

"It was Bordon who heard you scream. I simply took the opportunity to do away with that insufferable Private Roth," he said, rubbing his thumb over her elegant fingers.

"I'm grateful nonetheless," she replied, feeling there had been slightly more to his rescue of her than vengeance on Private Roth. She met his eyes, her gaze soft.

They both knew their strange moment of passion had been broken when Cornwallis interrupted, but now Vivienne's lips met those of the Colonel in a kiss much softer and gentler than the ones they had shared earlier. Tavington had not taken the time to savor her kisses, her sweet lips when they were madly going at it on the floor. The roaring fire of lust that had seared him inside and out, driving him to make love to this beauty, had been reduced to a small flame, allowing him to control himself more easily.

He deepened the kiss, gently touching her neck, her hips, her breast, not wanting to hurt her. Slowly, they fell to a prostrate position, his back cushioned by the fire-warmed leather and Vivienne lying atop him. Passionately, they held each other, touching, kissing as the night began to fade away.


	11. Attain the Unattainable

When the sun was high in the sky, they awoke, still holding each other. Tavington was on his back, his arms around Vivienne's waist. Vivienne lay on his chest, her cheek pressed to the hollow of his neck.

As both sat up awkwardly, Tavington realized she was still wearing her nightgown and his clothes were still intact, excluding his shirt. In spite of all that happened between them, they never did have sex.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying not to draw her attention, but she was looking at him too, and in the strangest way, like she was trying to figure something out. Vivienne's brows knitted together in disbelief.

"You and I, we never - "

A loud knocking at the door cut her off. Tavington grabbed his shirt from the floor, throwing it over his head as he marched up to the door. Flinging it open, he was surprised at who was on the other side.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything . . . I need to talk to Vivienne."

Margaret stood timidly, looking fearful at Tavington's irritated stare. He looked to Vivienne, who immediately stood and joined him at the door. Just as she was about to follow Margaret out, Vivienne caught herself.

"Say what you will." From the look on Margaret's face, she didn't want to gossip about Vivienne's wedding night. Chancing another look at Tavington, Margaret spoke.

"I suppose both of you should hear this, really, I was just. . . Anyway, General Cornwallis came down to the dining hall last night in a rage. He wanted to have Vivienne sent to a nunnery! I can't imagine why, since you two are _married_ . . . "

She trailed off as Vivienne and Tavington glanced at each other. Margaret's eyes grew wide, combining with her baggy dressing gown and wild hair to make her look rather insane.

"Oh my Lord, you aren't married are you?! No wonder he wants Vivienne sent -"

Tavington snatched Margaret's arm and yanked her into the room.

"Shout it to the world, will you?" he growled. Margaret nodded wordlessly. Vivienne felt they hadn't heard the whole story. She nodded at Margaret.

"Please, continue."

"Right, of course. When Cornwallis started raging about expelling you from the army," she nodded at Tavington "the governor tried to calm him and they went to the Governor's private study."

"I followed them and listened at the door. Cornwallis yelled for the longest time, but eventually Governor Lucas calmed him enough to think rationally. Cornwallis said if the two of you had a legal and documented marriage in the next month, he would forget the situation, mark it off as 'eager young love.' But then he said he didn't want a woman near his soldiers. He wanted Vivienne to reside in some town near camp and stay away from the other soldiers." Margaret looked distressed.

"No one here knew General Cornwallis had such high standards. I slipped away after that to avoid being found out, but I had to tell you as soon as I could. Oh Vivienne, Governor Lucas's wife is a dreadful gossip - everyone shall know about this!"

Silence filled the room as everyone mulled over what had been said. Awkwardly, Margaret hugged Vivienne and excused herself. Vivienne sighed and sank down onto the couch.

The moment the door clicked closed, Tavington started pacing, muttering obscenities about the Lord General.

"All this time the bastard's been searching for a reason to get rid of me - he's certainly found one!" Vivienne turned to him.

"But, he wasn't bothered by your relations with prostitutes?"

"Pleasing men is what they do for a living - he _knew_ we weren't manipulating them. Besides, they were all older than you are . . . God, he probably thinks I kidnapped you." The furrow in his brow grew deeper as he anticipated a possible demotion. Following orders was not something William Tavington would submit to.

Vivienne looked to her lap, her anxiety growing as she realized the short amount of time she had to make a decision that would affect her for the rest of her life. She looked at Tavington, who continued to pace about like the devil was at his heels.

There was an undeniable physical attraction between the two of them, but could they have more than that? Would Tavington consent? His life would likely change very little compared to hers if they did not marry. Vivienne fidgeted, tapping her foot.

Could she love, or even tolerate, the man who destroyed her home and did God-knows-what to her parents? Did she have a choice? _Yes, I could choose the life of a nun, or the life of an unloved wife._ Uttering a frustrated sigh, Vivienne flopped back onto the pillows, wrought with indecision and frustration.

She barely heard Tavington's footsteps as he came up behind her as he stopped just beside the couch, taking her wrist and planting soft kisses along her forearm.

"Are you truly that upset about this, my dear? If so, I believe a distraction is in order . . ." Vivienne tore her arm from his grasp and stood, looking up at him with worry pooling in her eyes.

"William! Both of us are doomed to miserable and lonely lives if we don't make some kind of decision about what is to be done!"

"I don't see how I would benefit from marrying you," Tavington said casually, beginning to pace about the room once more.

"As much as I hate to say it, you are the only possible husband I may ever have! When word of this gets out, no one else would have me!" Vivienne nearly shouted, enraged by his lack of concern.

"I find that highly unlikely, darling. You could make quite a living for yourself at the camp. The men all find you incredibly fetching."

"Please!" Vivienne begged, ignoring his unfunny crack "Don't force me to be submitted to a life of shame and rejection. I will be the wife you want me to be and more - I'll do anything!"

It was only after the words were out of her mouth that Vivienne realized her mistake. Her last sentence had clearly piqued Tavington's interest as he stopped pacing and gazed back at her.

"Anything? Dear Vivienne, do you know what that promise will require?"

"Yes." She swallowed defiantly, knowing she couldn't go back on her word "I am prepared to be the best wife I can be."

"Good, then I believe we may have an agreement. You can start following through on your promise by never calling me William." He stalked toward her, reminding Vivienne just how much he could frighten her.

"Nothing is set in stone until we have said our wedding vows," Vivienne retorted. Tavington inhaled slowly, something working through his mind.

"Very well. Any other 'requirements' you wish to propose?" Ignoring his mocking tone, Vivienne took a slow breath, hoping her simple plan would work.

"All your life, you've known only lust, never love," she paused, glancing up at him to see his reaction to her wild guess. He scoffed at her bold assumption, but would not meet her eyes or offer a negation. For once, it seemed, Colonel Tavington did not have a smart retort. Glimpsing a bit of hope, Vivienne put her hand on his jaw, turning his head so their eyes met.

"I don't believe there has ever been anyone to teach you how to love. If you marry me, I will love you." Tavington looked into her dark, earnest eyes, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar rush of longing swelling in his chest at her words.

"Lust is. . .pleasing, but love. . ." she trailed off, thinking of her romance novels, her dreams of having a family. "Love is much more worthwhile." He stared just over her shoulder. He was suddenly confused and did not want to meet her tender gaze, afraid he would find pity there.

She tried again, desperate to get through the layer of ice that seemed to encase his heart. "We can learn to love each other."

Tavington was slightly put off by the saccharine feeling of it all, but the idea of having someone to rely on, foreign as it was, had never occurred to him before now.

All at once he berated himself for softening in such a manner. His military, and only, success was due to his determination and mistrust of all but himself - why give that up for a foolish woman?

Perhaps he could fool her into thinking he loved her long enough for them to be married. After all, an offer of a woman to do "anything" for the rest of her life was rather tempting.

Vivienne stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking to the doorway. Irked, he turned towards her retreating back.

"Where are you bloody going - " Turning, she silenced him with a half-smile.

"If we are to love each other, I'm not going to make it easy for you. The only way to get your hands up my skirt is to marry me."

Leaving him stunned at her unexpected playfulness, she strode out of the room with a swing in her hips. As the door closed behind her, Tavington smiled, shaking his head. She might be more of a challenge than he had thought, but he could still win. The hunt was on.


	12. A Bargain

"At least write to me!"

Margaret stood before Vivienne the next morning, tears glistening in her eyes at the departure of her new friend. The British soldiers were on the move again. Soldiers were kissing the young ladies they met at the ball for the last time.

"Of course I shall!" Vivienne hugged Margaret, realizing she would miss having other young ladies around.

All too soon, the time came to depart. Cornwallis had conveniently stayed far away from both Tavington and Vivienne. Tavington did not seem to mind, but Vivienne wanted to talk with the Lord General. She found him surrounded by soldiers and the governor's butlers.

"Sir, if I may speak to you for a moment?" she asked timidly, forcing herself to stay relaxed as everyone turned disapproving gazes on her.

"I suppose so," Cornwallis said cautiously, still wary of the young woman who had so mysteriously appeared in the British camp.

He took her arm and led her to a less populated area. She launched right into her plea.

"William Tavington and I are planning to marry, but, sir, I do not think I can stand to be away from him until the wedding!" she said dramatically, forcing a pained expression onto her face. There would never be a chance of she and Tavington's tolerance of each other if they lived in entirely different areas up until their wedding.

If Vivienne was to marry this questionable man, she would be finding out everything she wanted to know about him - and that would require a closer proximity than the distance between the British camp and the nearest town. She would convince Cornwallis to either allow her to stay at camp, or allow Tavington to stay in town. Both Vivienne and Tavington had been disgraced - the only way to avoid the criticism of society, and her family, was to marry Tavington.

"Why not simply have the wedding right away?" Cornwallis said sharply, interrupting her slew of thoughts.

"My family must come, of course, and they are so far away . . . it will take a bit of time for me to write to them and receive a response."

"And what would you have me do?"

"Let us stay together, please. We've already promised not to do anything indecent before our wedding night," Vivienne's cheeks reddened as she said this.

"I won't be any trouble to you or the other soldiers, I promise!"

Cornwallis looked at Vivienne, staring at him with huge, tearful eyes. He hemmed and hawed for a bit, but she remained still, continuing to stare at him so. Vivienne was desperate for her plan to work. She needed to win Tavington over before they married, before he had her completely in his clutches.

At last Cornwallis spoke.

"It seems a bargain is in order. Since I cannot simply give up my calvary leader for a month, you will stay in a tent of your own within one hundred yards of the camp for three weeks. And your wedding will be before the end of the month, so you will spend the better part of the fourth week in town to secure arrangements for the wedding."

Accepting this, Vivienne smiled graciously at him.

"You are generous indeed, sir." He nodded dismissively and waved her away. Vivienne triumphantly found her way back to Tavington, who was already seated on his horse. He reached down to pull her up behind him.

"I am to stay at camp for the next three weeks," Vivienne announced, keeping her tone nonchalant as she absentmindedly put her arms around his waist.

"How did you ever accomplish that?" Tavington asked, surprised.

"I can be a very convincing woman, Mr. Tavington." The British army rode off at that point, heading for the new destination for camp. Awkward silence seemed to lengthen the gap between Tavington and Vivienne. She was the one to speak first.

"What do you think of children?"

"Mostly, they irritate me," he replied.

"But if they were your - _our_ - own children?"

"What is it you suggest?"

"I-" she began "I've always wanted children . . . "

"I suppose we shall deal with that when the time comes - for now we have more significant problems," he said tightly.

The silence swelled once again, and this time, neither of them seemed prepared to breach it.

**Thanks to those who have reviewed! It is very much appreciated :-) **

**This chapter wasn't extremely climactic, but the tension is building. . . **


	13. Soothing the Doubts

Before too long, the British had made it to the area that was decided for the camp. Tents were erected, belongings were unpacked, horses were fed and watered. Vivienne had the evening to herself, as the Colonel would be discussing plans for upcoming battles with the other officers. She lay in her tent, enjoying the peaceful silence. Suddenly she felt rather sleepy. She closed her eyes, but just for a moment . . .

As sleep overtook her, Vivienne began to dream. . . .

_The sun was warm on her back. Vivienne looked down at her bare toes, curled around long strands of green grass. She threw her arms up in the air, twirling about the meadow in delight._

_ Feeling another presence, she turned around to see Tavington smiling at her, also barefoot, his hair tousled about his shoulders. He approached her, taking her hand. His other hand went to her belly, which was now bulging with child._

_ "Our baby. . . " he said, his voice tender. A smile flowered Vivienne's bright face as she leaned in to kiss him. . . _

_ A boom of thunder separated the lovers. The cheerful blue sky had faded to an ominous gray and the smell of danger was in the air._

_ "I have waited long enough, Colonel!" _

_A faceless man was running toward them, a rapier in his outstretched hand and an army of faceless soldiers at his back. Tavington turned to Vivienne in slow motion, panic in his eyes. A strange pain ran through Vivienne's abdomen and she looked down to see a bayonet protruding from her belly._

_ The baby! The last thing she saw before falling into darkness was the rapier piercing Tavington's heart, his eyes rolling backwards in his head - _

"Vivienne!" She was shaken awake. It was dark now, but even before her eyes adjusted, Vivienne could see it was Tavington crouching beside her. She put a hand to her forehead, feeling her skin moist under her touch. Tavington took that hand in his. "They are all asleep. Let's take a walk." She nodded slowly, allowing him to pull her up. They moved silently through the shadows of the woods until they reached the bank of the stream. Tavington led her to a grassy spot beneath a large tree and sat down. She sat next to him, suspicious. Silence. Just when Vivienne thought she could stand it no longer, he spoke.

"Go on then, ask."

"Ask what?" She was confused.

"You're curious about me. I'll answer your questions."

"_Any _questions I might have?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Why didn't you rape me?" Vivienne said quickly, fearing she would lose her nerve. "You had so many chances. . . " He was quiet, tension sizzling between them. Finally, he sighed as he prepared an answer for her.

"I . . . wanted to taunt the other men," he said casually, not meeting her gaze.

"Mmm." Vivienne wasn't sure how to reply. She felt he hadn't told her everything, but she was oblivious to the fact that he had lied. Tavington smiled uncomfortably before changing the subject.

"Well, on with the other questions, then." Why did he feel so ill-at-ease discussing that with her?

"All right. Tell me about your family."

"My mother died when I was born. I was brought up by a drunken maid who barely managed to feed me. My father gambled away any status we had, along with my inheritance and drank himself to death. I joined the army when I had no other place to go." The whole time Tavington spoke, he stared at the ground in front of him. His expression was hard to read, but there was pain in his eyes, a pain he often kept well concealed. "Everything I am, I've learned here." He gestured back towards camp.

"And the prostitutes?" Vivienne asked.

"When the other men went out whoring, I went along." Vivienne stared at him. He had never known anything but coldness and lust. Feeling much pity for him, she was silent.

"Is that it, then?" he asked her. She nodded.

"I suppose it must be my turn then. Go ahead," she said reluctantly. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" When she remained silent, he continued "I positively terrified you until the night of the governor's ball." She looked at him, her cheeks reddening at his intense gaze.

"I - I don't quite know. I feel I have so little choice in this, so I plan try to make the best of things." She shrugged. He didn't press her, but nodded, turning his electrifying blue eyes away from her. Vivienne noticed an ache in her back from this tension. She winced as she twisted her torso from side to side, trying to ease the tightness. Tavington noticed her pain.

"I can help you relax." She stiffened, guessing his intentions. She was not the type to frolic in the forest.

"Out _here_? You must be mad - " He chuckled, cutting her off.

"No, not for the time being, anyway. Come here." He was laying on his back, looking up at her. She was frozen for a moment, but slowly, slowly slid down so she was lying next to him, propped up on her elbows. He took her arm, pulling her so she was laying on her side adjacent to him. She was only rigid for a moment before she allowed herself to slacken against him, putting her head on his chest. His arm was warm around her and Vivienne found her eyelids drooping. She felt safe here in the peaceful night softness next to a man she never thought she would be so comfortable with.

Exhausted from her surge of emotions and confusion and secure in Tavington's arms, Vivienne's sleep was dreamless and restful.


	14. Eavesdropper

They woke just as the sun was just beginning to creep up the horizon. Vivienne yawned, sitting up. Tavington took her arm, disabling her to stand.

"You fell asleep before I finished questioning you," he said with the hint of a smirk. Despite his original intentions to simply humor her, Tavington had found talking with Vivienne was not entirely dreadful.

Vivienne looked toward the quickly rising sun. They couldn't be discovered here.

"Tonight?" she asked, looking back into his eyes.

"Tonight," he agreed. He released her arm and kissed her lightly on the lips before standing and heading back towards camp.

Vivienne allowed herself to slide down into a heap in the grass, feeling her plan might actually have a chance. She suddenly found herself rather curious about Tavington's life. Tonight, Vivienne wouldn't let him ask _all_ the questions.

* * *

"And your family?" Tavington asked. He and Vivienne had slipped away to the tree once again that night.

"My mother and father. Surely you remember them." She gave him a wry smile.

"I don't think that encounter at your home can be described as a proper meeting."

"Hardly. You did kidnap me right in front of them . . . " Both fell silent. The topic of how Vivienne came to reside at the British camp was apparently a touchy one. Vivienne tried to lighten the mood,

"Please tell me you didn't carry me off simply to spite my parents." He smirked at her.

"Of course not. I could hardly tear my eyes from you - your parents' harboring of enemy soldiers was merely an excuse to take you back with me." Vivienne blushed.

"Surely I wasn't worth all that trouble," she said softly. He stared at her.

"You cannot see yourself through the eyes of a man, Vivienne," he replied huskily. Tavington reached out to push a lock of her hair behind her ear, leaning closer as he did so. Vivienne closed her eyes, awaiting his kiss.

_ Crack!_ A twig snapped, breaking the silence and the tender moment between them. Tavington leapt up, his hand on his pistol.

"We're not alone," he growled. The forest was silent once more.

Tavington was torn between searching out the eavesdropper and protecting Vivienne. Making a decision, he reached down and pulled her up with him, already dragging her in the direction of camp.

"But we cannot go back yet - it's hardly been - "

"Ssssh!" he hissed, putting his hand over her mouth. "We won't be bothered in your tent." Vivienne's eyes grew wide.

"If we are caught - "

"We shall _not_ be caught. You must trust me," he interrupted again, stopping to look at her. There was a strange sincerity in his gaze. Vivienne was wary, but she nodded, allowing him to pull her to her shabby little tent.

* * *

"That's all I heard before I . . ." Jack broke off. He felt foolish for nearly failing in so simple a task. Benjamin Martin was still staring intensely at the young man.

"Before you what?"

"Before I snapped a twig and alerted them to my presence." Jack looked down at his boots. Benjamin Martin sighed, clapping a hand on the young lad's shoulder and meeting Gabriel's eyes.

"It's all right, son. You did well." Jack smiled in relief before leaving Benjamin to his thoughts.

"Father? Would you like to discuss this?" Gabriel was looking at his father with concern. Benjamin smiled at his son, proud of the boy he saw so much of himself in.

"No, Gabriel. I need to think." Gabriel nodded, understanding, and left. Benjamin started pacing again.

Tavington must be manipulating the girl to get her into his bed, why else would he bother with her?. . . But if he had to manipulate her, she couldn't be a prostitute, so what was she? No modest young lady would be caught dead with the despicable William Tavington. She had been kidnapped and mistreated by the same man she was frolicking with amongst the trees? How ridiculous - she must be quite the simpleton. Why had Tavington cared enough to kidnap her?. . .

Benjamin was frustrated, wishing he could have been there to see their rendezvous for himself. He sighed, resolving to stand back and watch to see what would happen. It was a small chance, but Tavington's new paramour could allow a perfect revenge.


	15. More Than Lust

As Colonel Tavington walked among the young soldiers the next morning, he found himself thinking of Vivienne, but not in the usual way. The reason he brought her back to camp in the first place was to get her in his bed. That still hadn't happened despite the daily, or rather, nightly, opportunities. Of course he still desired her, that was certainly true, but there was something behind his insatiable lust. Lately he had found himself satisfied with simply holding Vivienne, or sitting near her, not needing to hungrily touch and kiss her every moment they were together. If only it wasn't for this stupid war, he could court her properly. . .

Tavington nearly kicked himself. What was he thinking? He loved war in all its macabre glory. But, he stopped walking, could there be something else he loved more? Tavington tried to rid himself of this contradiction of his staunchest belief. How could he have been such a fool? He did not love Vivienne and would never love any woman. He would just have her and be done with the whole issue. Women, he thought firmly, are only good for warming one's bed on cool evenings.

* * *

Vivienne walked briskly into town, glad to be mailing her letters at last. She found herself startled at the large number of people in the streets. Men, women, and children were up and about, working or playing, socializing or keeping to themselves, but all were enjoying the sunny afternoon.

As Vivienne turned the corner, her eyes were drawn to several women in fine dresses standing together in a circle. A blonde young lady with her back to Vivienne seemed to be the center of attention. As Vivienne walked past them, she could see why the girl was getting so much attention - she was heavily pregnant. The blonde had a hand over her belly and was smiling shyly at the tittering women around her.

They all looked so very happy, especially the rosy-cheeked blonde with her bulging belly. As soon as Vivienne was positive she was out of sight, she stopped and curiously put a hand over her own stomach, remembering her eerie dream. What would it feel like to have a child growing within _her_? She shot a nervous glance back to the group of women. How she envied the blonde woman and her child, her friends . . . Vivienne swallowed.

There would be plenty of time to worry about children later. Now there were many other tasks to attend to. Her chin in the air, Vivienne strode towards the post office.

* * *

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Tavington whispered hoarsely as Vivienne sneaked up beside him in the woods that night.

"I'm sorry, very very sorry," she insisted, taking his hands in hers. "I had to go into town to mail some letters, and the ride home took longer than I expected. Can you ever forgive me?" Vivienne had to hold back a smile. She knew he wasn't cross with her. He smirked.

"I don't know about that. I can't tell how truly sorry you are - " Vivienne interrupted him with a passionate kiss, her arms encircling his neck. Her breathing quickened as he parted her lips with his tongue, sliding his hands down her back. They fell to the cool ground at the base of a tree, Tavington on top of Vivienne, his knee between her legs. His fingers flew to the front of her dress, untying the strings that would free her body, opening her to his embrace -

"No," she gasped, looking at him intensely. "I want to save this for my - our - wedding night."

"Now or then, it doesn't matter," he replied huskily, going back to the strings.

"Yes, it does," she said, putting her hand over his across her breast. He sat up, away from her. The moment had been broken now. Tavington breathed deeply, trying to extinguish the burning desire to rip her dress off like an animal and have her roughly against the tree. She sat too, looking apologetic. Vivienne began crawling toward him, reaching for his hand.

"If you touch me now, you won't walk away a virgin tonight," he managed to say. She nodded, backing away until she sat with her back against the tree. She hugged her knees to her chest, peering up at Tavington.

"You're angry at me," she said softly, noticing the way he concentrated on the ground before him rather than her.

"Most honorable young ladies have been taught to save themselves for their wedding nights. I suppose I should be grateful I'm marrying an honorable young lady." Despite the faint sarcasm in his tone, she gave him a small smile.

"That you should. Now we must retire, it is getting late, and I'm awfully tired." With a nod, he stood, looking down at her. When she realized he was not going to help her up, Vivienne stood with blushing cheeks. "Good night, then," she said softly, before striding off towards camp.

"Good night," Tavington muttered to her back. Why had he resisted the urge to take her when the moment was so ripe? Seeing her frightened face, tense with apprehension, had only made him want to hold her close and kiss away her discomfort. The war between lust and a new feeling Tavington couldn't recognize raged on within him, threatening to push him into insanity.

He adjusted his cravat, striding slowly in the direction of his lonely, moonlit tent.


	16. Shattered Trust

Vivienne lay there, covered in blankets, safe from the cool night air. But she could not get to sleep for the buzzing of her mind. Vivienne was thinking about sex. What was it like? She had come terribly close to finding out more than once. So many times she could have given in to temptation, but something had held her back each time. She had been raised with the ideal of saving her virginity for her husband, and she intended to do just that. And, of course, there was so much more to a happy marriage than what went on in the bedroom. A shock of tension zipped through her previously relaxed body as she realized how likely it would be for Tavington to just have his way with her and then forget the whole marriage business.

It was quite some time before Vivienne could quiet her mind enough to sleep. She told herself she had plenty of time to decide whether she could love Tavington and left it at that. She would make sure they talked more at their next meeting.

"I always dreamed of a home out in the country, away from all this," Vivienne said the next night, gesturing at the camp of soldiers. She sat in the cool grass, Tavington across from her.

He didn't respond, which Vivienne noticed. She felt doubt rising in her mind once again about the whole situation. To ease herself, Vivienne floated away into her favorite dream, the one with her little country house, children playing in the yard, and her husband's arm wrapped lovingly about her waist . . .

"When we are married, where shall we live?" she asked with a dreamy little sigh.

"I shall have to remain here until the war is over, so I suppose you shall stay in a town near by," he replied.

"Of course, but after the war is over . . . ?"

"I don't know. I haven't given the matter much thought, really."

"And . . . suppose we were to find a fine little house surrounded by rolling hills and sunny skies, we would have a family? With children?"

"Children? A bit soon to be worrying about that, is it not?"

"It never hurts to plan ahead."

He was silent in response. Vivienne sat, leaning back on her elbows.

"Don't you want children?"

"Not particularly." There. He said it. But why did he feel ashamed for saying so. . . ?

Before she could reply, the bushes nearby rustled in the way of something moving through them. Tavington bolted up, a pistol in his hand. He grabbed Vivienne's wrist, forcing her behind him. A large shape moved in the darkness and Vivienne's heart pounded like a war drum. Tavington cocked his gun.

"Show yourself," he barked with the air of a true colonel.

Benjamin Martin stepped out of the brush, his face expressionless. Tavington felt rage course through him, but he remained still as the despicable man, responsible for the humiliation of Tavington himself, and the rest of the British army, came forward.

"You're wasting your time with this man. He'll only bring you misery," Martin said solemnly, addressing Vivienne.

She peeked around Tavington at this man with his American accent, his long hair pulled out of its queue by branches and wind. Tavington sneered at Benjamin Martin,

"Don't speak to her," he growled at his enemy. Ignoring Tavington, Benjamin Martin continued to stare at Vivienne.

"He didn't tell you what he truly thinks of children, did he?" Martin's voice was low and calm, but he was struggling to keep it so as his gaze was locked with that of this lovely lady, which the likes of Tavington certainly didn't deserve.

"He killed my son, my fifteen-year old son, with pleasure, and with that very pistol." Martin's control wavered a bit and his ache to wring Tavington's neck made his knees go weak. Vivienne stammered in protest, protecting her fiancé.

"No, no he would never - " she broke off as Tavington didn't say a word, but held his icy gaze steady, the point of his pistol locked on Benjamin Martin, denying not a thing. Tears caught in her throat as she looked from one man to another, trying to choke out something, anything.

But as the seconds passed and not a word came from anyone, the truth of it descended on Vivienne. She tore her wrist from Tavington's grasp and ran out into the forest, a sob escaping her. Tavington's eyes flicked to her departing form. But he had erred in breaking his concentration. In the moment he looked away, Benjamin Martin had disappeared into the foliage.

Cursing under his breath, Tavington ran after Vivienne, following the sound of her sporadic sobs.


	17. Confession

Vivienne collapsed into her tent, chest heaving from the run back to camp. Her head spun in disbelief, trying desperately to see that this was all a lie, that Tavington was lovable, was not a cruel monster who would kill a fifteen year old boy. But try as she might to believe Tavington was good, her mind only offered her the image of Benjamin Martin's hard face, his voice thick with concealed anguish over the murder of his son -

The tent flaps were swept apart and, instead of Tavington standing in the opening, Colonel Bordon stood before her.

"Miss, are you all right?" he asked, stepping forward to put his hand upon her shoulder. She tensed at his touch, swiveling her body toward him, their eyes meeting.

Bordon found himself pitying the girl, with her eyes full of betrayal and her lush lower lip quivering in such a way . . . Bordon sat beside her, swallowing the desire to crush her to him and make love to her beautiful, trembling form.

"I - I didn't know he killed, killed an innocent boy . . . " Vivienne said at last, her words hoarse with disbelief. Bordon nodded, not knowing how to reply. Vivienne's shoulders hunched forward and she turned her face from him once more.

Acting on impulse, Bordon turned her face toward his with one hand, and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. At first her mouth was frozen in surprise, but she soon began to respond, allowing his tongue to ease the salt of tears off her lips.

When at last Bordon pulled away, Vivienne was staring at him, looking upon him as if for the first time. Just as Bordon was about to kiss her once more, the tent flaps swung open. Tavington stood in the entrance, breathing heavily. Vivienne's hands trembled, her pupils dilating in fear.

Tavington seemed to not notice how close his aide-de-camp was sitting to Vivienne, but he wanted her alone nonetheless.

"Get out," Tavington growled at Bordon, who obeyed without a word, his eyes meeting Vivienne's one last time before he exited the tent.

"Vivienne, listen to me - " Tavington crouched beside her and she immediately scooted backwards. He came after her and she only pushed herself further away from him. Annoyed, he lunged forward, taking one of her wrists in each hand as he knelt over her, trapping her with his body. She looked up at him, still breathing hard.

Vivienne's ancient paranoia of being raped came back with all its former strength and she couldn't keep from trembling as she gazed up into his lustful stare. It seemed chasing her down and trapping her like this had aroused him. Tavington had triumphed in catching his prey and would now go in for the kill . . .

As his lips descended on her neck, a small cry tore from her throat. It was not a cry of utmost pleasure, but of desperate fear. Tavington pulled away from her at once, shock blatant on his face as he sat up, away from her trembling form, all thoughts of making love forgotten. She looked at him, her face beginning to crumple with tears of heartbreak.

"You - you really, t-truly killed a boy for_ pleasure_?" she stammered, wrought with woe.

"Now listen it - listen!" He took her by the shoulders and shook her. His eyes, like glaciers, bore into hers. "I will tell you everything if you keep quiet." When she didn't make a sound, he continued. "Yes, I killed a fifteen year old boy, and at the time I had no regrets, but now, I. . . " he trailed off, looking away from Vivienne. He still didn't regret killing the impudent boy, but guilt, rusty and foreign to him, bubbled to to surface of his conscience at betraying her, at making her cry so wretchedly.

"Please, get out," she said, not looking at him.

"Do you want to know the real reason I didn't rape you your first night here?" Tavington snapped desperately. Vivienne stared at him, thrown off guard.

"That man who talked to you moments ago has been tormenting me for weeks. I cannot find him, I cannot capture him, I cannot kill him - and I have been humiliated to my face and behind my back for each of those failures!"

Tavington was shouting now, Vivienne trapped in his furious eyes.

"Ever since I joined this army, I could attain everything I set out to do - I was the reason we were winning this war! But then I made the mistake of killing that stupid, stupid boy, and his father has become the reason my country is losing men, supplies, honor and the whole damn war!"

Tavington swallowed, trying to calm himself.

"Then I saw you - the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes upon. Kidnapping you was so easy - something I wasn't used to anymore. You were at my mercy and I could have raped you that same night. But why spend all the glory on one evening? I thought, _If I were to wait to have her, to manipulate her into trusting me, a far better night would be in store for me._ It was a challenge I knew I could easily accomplish - and if I ever tired of the game, I could have you whenever it pleased me and still win. When I learned of our stay at the governor's plantation, I planned to have you there, but when I found you in that room, tortured by those miserable bastards . . ."

He looked away from her frozen stare, prepared to finish his soliloquy.

"For the first time in my life, I started to feel guilty. As you came to trust me, I couldn't bring myself to rape you no matter how many opportunities I had. I lost my own game, but this time it didn't feel like a failure."

Vivienne's breath came in ragged gasps and she scooted away from him.

"Get out!" She glared furiously at him through her tears until he reluctantly left her tent. The moment the flaps swung closed, Vivienne's hands came to her face as she fell back against her blankets, weeping.


	18. Breaking Through the Barrier

The dawn stretched over the horizon, lighting the world with roses. As peaceful and quiet as it was around Vivienne, a raging war of emotions was taking place in her mind.

Murdering someone - no less, a child - was no small thing that could be overlooked. If Tavington had the nerve to kill a child, what would stop him from killing her?

And to add to her confusion was the confession that contained the information she had been aching to hear ever since Tavington first captured her. Vivienne felt he had told her the truth, but his last words still left her mystified.

"_I lost my own game, but this time it didn't feel like a failure . . ."_

What did he mean by that? Was he trying to say how much he had come to care for her? But now how could she trust him? He betrayed her trust by keeping the boy's murder from her.

Vivienne bit her lip in frustration as her mind returned to that sensitive issue, firing question after question at her. Could she still love him? Could she look into that face and _not_ see a murderer? His hands, the hands that caressed her so lovingly were the same hands that held the gun, pulled the trigger on that innocent boy. . . Vivienne felt a rush of hard anger.

There was no reason she should waste her time debating whether or not Tavington deserved her love - he obviously didn't. And then what of Colonel Bordon? There was something soft and tender in his eyes that Vivienne had needed to see. Deciding to deal with one thing at a time and resolve the Bordon issue later, Vivienne stood up, determined to get some answers to these harrowing questions of Tavington's true intentions. She would find out how black his heart was.

Tavington got about as much sleep as Vivienne did - none. Though he told himself repeatedly there would be other women, he couldn't get over the feeling that he had lost something very dear to him.

He told his cavalry to begin the patrol without him and returned to his tent, too plagued by confusion and exhaustion to even stand upright. He lifted the tent flaps with some difficulty and nearly jumped when he saw Vivienne sitting on his cot, glaring at him with eyes like hot coals.

The first thing Vivienne noticed was the dark circles under Tavington's eyes, comparable to her own. _Good, he didn't sleep either . . . _

"We need to talk about this," she said brusquely. He nodded faintly as he whipped off his red coat, too tired to resist.

As he sat down next to her compliantly, Vivienne forced herself to loosen up a bit. She had to treat him humanely if she wanted truthful answers.

"Why did you kill him?" she asked, her voice soft.

"He attacked one of my soldiers," Tavington replied.

When Vivienne only raised an eyebrow, he took a great breath to tell the whole story.

"The boy's older brother was serving in the American army. My soldiers captured him and we were going to hang him as an example to the other loyalists. We caught the soldier at his own home, with his family gathered before us. As my men moved to take away the enemy soldier, this boy dashed out, and I shot him."

Tavington forced himself to meet Vivienne's gaze. Her expression was unreadable. She expected more. Tavington continued,

"As I think back on it now, I find I am not as. . . nonchalant about it as I was at the time."

Tavington leaned forward, slowly taking Vivienne's hands in his. He felt strange, behaving like he cared, but it seemed something beyond the reach of his fatigued mind was acting for him. Perhaps the hate that had brewed in him since his father's untimely death was running low.

"Vivienne, you must see that I am capable of change. I'm not as I was when I killed the boy. It . . . isn't something I would do again. And I promise you won't ever have to fear for your safety around me."

His eyes pierced her faltering resolve and she fell into him, sobbing. She wept because she was overwhelmed, she wept because she was exhausted, and she wept because some part of her had hope for him yet. His arms closed around her and he held her firmly.

Love had always seemed so frivolous, something to scoff at. But now, like a tentative child, Tavington reached for it, gingerly grasping this ideal of love with trembling fingers.

Tavington rested his cheek on her head, gently cupping the back of her neck, stroking her hair with his thumb. Vivienne's wracking sobs had sucked up the little energy she had left, and now she slept. Tavington lay back on the cot with Vivienne asleep on his chest. He was lost before his head touched the pillow.

"Ahem. . . "

The lovers woke at the sound of a throat being cleared above them. Tavington was the first to realize General Cornwallis' looming presence in the tent. Tavington lightly pushed Vivienne off of him before she was even awake.

"Mmmm, not yet - " Vivienne stopped mid sentence as she sleepily looked up to meet the Lord General's angry gaze. Sleep was suddenly the last thing on her mind as she sat up quickly, smoothing her hair in an attempt to look polished. Cornwallis' eyes blazed with fire, but his voice, remarkably, was calm.

"I think you had better have that wedding tomorrow," he said stiffly. Vivienne protested.

"But my parents - "

" - Will have to celebrate with you another time," Cornwallis interrupted "There shall be no bargaining on this one. Tomorrow afternoon then."

Vivienne gaped soundlessly as Cornwallis glared daggers at Tavington before leaving. Vivienne straightened her dress, smoothing her hair again.

"Did we really appear to be all that indecent? We're fully clothed," Vivienne mused.

"Cornwallis would jump at even the tiniest opportunity to get this wedding out of the way," Tavington replied, standing to stretch. "Oh God, I can't feel my arm," he muttered.

Vivienne smiled faintly. Her head had been resting comfortably on his shoulder for over an hour. Tavington put his red coat back on, buttoning it swiftly.

"So, I suppose we shall be married tomorrow," Vivienne said, breaking the silence.

She felt reassured when a small surge of excitement tingled through her. Tavington nodded, straightening his coat. He was missing his cravat. . . he looked to the cot where his cravat lay near Vivienne's arm.

Following his gaze, she picked it up and strode over to him. Instead of depositing it into his waiting hands, she put it around his neck and knotted it expertly. She paused after she had finished, then, gently leaned forward and kissed his neck, right below his ear. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as she pulled away.

"I'll be a wonderful wife," she whispered, shooting him a half smile as she exited the tent, hips swinging.

Her touch had rekindled Tavington's lust, dormant from the previous strain on their relationship. His slow smile beneath half-lidded eyes would have alerted anyone to what he was thinking –

_I shall make tomorrow night the best of my life. . ._


	19. Do I?

Vivienne had always imagined her wedding to take place in an elegant church, she wearing a white dress and a flowing veil, holding a vivacious bouquet of white lilies.

All that frivolity had once been her utmost desire . . . and now Vivienne had only a simple white dress and wild flowers she had plucked from the sunny edge of the trees, but she was satisfied.

As she stepped into the rundown church, meeting Tavington's eyes, she couldn't have felt more beautiful.

The priest spoke over the Colonel and his bride, droning on and on with the formalities. Soon he came to the vows. Cornwallis's spine straightened in the first pew.

"Do you, William Michael Tavington, take Vivienne Marguerite Kent to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Tavington's whole world seemed to slow and all he could see was Vivienne's shining face, blossoming with a smile, eyes sparkling just for him.

Tavington swallowed_. No more sleeping around then. . ._ Perhaps it _was_ about time he got married and brought in some new blood to help smooth the ruffled reputation of the Tavington family legacy. And if he had to choose a woman to marry, he would undoubtedly choose Vivienne.

"I do." His voice was low, as he looked back at her, not quite smiling - his usual look.

"And do you, Vivienne Marguerite Kent, take William Michael Tavington to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health until death do you part?"

_This is it. . . _

Vivienne saw, out of the corner of her eye, Captain Bordon. He sat stiffly, his gaze seeming to say, _"Don't do it!"_ Vivienne took a slow breath before turning her attention back to Tavington.

"I do." The words flowed easily from Vivienne's lips.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Tavington took Vivienne's hand as they turned to face the scant crowd that had gathered in the church.

The witnesses and townspeople who came to the simple ceremony clapped politely for the couple. Cornwallis clapped the loudest, hugely relieved Tavington and Vivienne had gone through with the marriage. Maybe this woman would distract Tavington from his disorderly escapades - give him something to do besides disobey orders.

Every eye in the church was so intent on the newly weds, not one person noticed a single form slip out the front doors . . .

"She married him? After she knew what he _did_?" Benjamin Martin was intensely irritated at the news Richard brought. The foolish girl had gone ahead and married Colonel Tavington.

"She must care about him very much." Gabriel's voice was grave. Richard stood beside him wordlessly, twisting his hat in his hands. Benjamin paced the room, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Now there seems to be only one question remaining: does he care for her?"

Richard licked his dry lips, not liking where this was going. Gabriel tried to reach out to his father.

"Father, I realize your reason for wanting revenge on this man, but he is only one man. We have a whole war ahead of us - "

"No!" Benjamin's voice was hoarse. "This 'one man' is responsible for what will be years of misery for me and my family. I cannot let that go unpunished."

Richard knew there would be no talking Benjamin out of it, so he nodded in farewell, and slipped out of the tent with Gabriel close behind, feeling a dark future ahead of them all.


	20. Wedding Night

Vivienne said goodbye to all the well-wishers that evening, Tavington beside her, offering the occasional "farewell," but otherwise silent. Soon the Colonel and his bride were alone. Tavington put his arm around Vivienne's waist and whisked her off to their temporary home.

He was kissing her even before they were through the doorway. Vivienne wouldn't be standing had her arms not been locked around his neck. He pulled away from her, just slightly.

"Do you remember" he stopped to kiss her "the last time we did this?" Vivienne smiled beneath his lips.

"How could I forget?" she murmured.

"This time there will be no interruptions - we have all night to do as we please."

Tavington swept Vivienne into his arms and carried her up the stairs and into a bedroom. He set her down and closed the door, but he did not rush into her arms.

"I have a gift for you." Tavington reached into the drawer of the vanity and pulled out a box the size of a large book. He stood before her and removed the lid. Vivienne watched him with intense curiosity.

Out of the box came what looked to be a jumble of leather straps. He looked up at her, amused at her puzzled reaction. "And the finishing touches, of course."

Tavington pulled a pistol out of its holster on his right hip, then a switchblade knife from a small holster on his left. Setting the weapons onto the vanity, he turned his attention back to Vivienne. He raised the leather thing to her.

"May I?" She nodded slowly, not knowing what he would do. "Put your foot here." He lifted his knee. She obeyed, her knee facing him as she rested her right foot on his thigh.

His fingers moved to the hem of her dress, lifting it an inch or so before he looked back up at her as if asking for permission. When she didn't react, he lifted her dress, exposing more and more of her slim, pale leg. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her naked flesh as he finally stopped at her thigh.

He reached for the leather object and, as he unbuckled it, Vivienne could see it seemed to be a rather complicated garter. She was still confused, but she liked his touch on this more intimate part of her skin.

He smoothly buckled the garter around her thigh, reaching then for the pistol and the knife. With one hand supporting the inside of her thigh, he slid each item into individual holsters on the garter. His hand still on her leg, he looked up at her.

"I give you these to protect you, should anything . . . undesirable happen to me. That man who spoke to you that night in the forest . . . " He trailed off, she could sense the growing irritation in his voice.

"What man?" she said with a sultry little smile, sliding her dress off her shoulders to reveal the edge of her corset and providing more than enough of a distraction. His eyes sparkled just for her.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," he replied, slipping his hand around to undo the fastenings on her dress before sliding it off her body to fall in a white puddle of silk. Now in only her corset and underskirt, Vivienne found herself feeling rather shy.

"William," Vivienne whispered as his hand moved to her breast "I don't know what to _do_." He paused to smile at her.

"You have the rest of your life to learn, my darling, and I have much to teach you." His voice was low, husky with lust, as he tossed his red coat off in one smooth movement. He took her hand, laying it on the sliver of his bare chest the loose white shirt revealed.

"I'll make you ready for me," he said into her ear, running his fingers through her silky hair, his other arm clasping her close to him. Vivienne didn't doubt he would.

She found her nervousness melt away as his experienced fingers explored her body, finding the places that made her gasp with pleasure. Crushed to the wall, Vivienne's hands found the hem of his white shirt. She lifted it up and over his head, he helping her. She tossed the garment away, eager to plant both her hands on his bare chest. Tavington took his turn next with her corset.

With one hand supporting her lower back, his other hand deftly unlaced her corset, which fell to the floor to join the rest of the clothes. Vivienne's hands moved from his chest, sliding down his torso to the buckle of his weapon belt. It, too, hit the floor.

Tavington moved to unfasten her skirt, but she stopped him with a hand flat to his chest. He stepped back as she unfastened the garment herself, drinking her in as her last bit of clothing pooled around her feet.

Standing naked before him, her hair tousled, her lips swollen and pink from kisses, cheeks dewy with sweat, Vivienne looked like some wild thing, daring him to possess her. Pink bloomed on her cheeks at his unwavering stare, and she tried to cover herself. He stepped forward, catching her wrist, going for the buckle of her garter, which he tossed aside as well.

"You won't be needing that tonight, nor will you need it tomorrow, because when I've finished with you, you shan't be able to walk" Tavington took her in his arms, and pressed her down on the bed. She waited, looking up at him.

Under her gaze, he let his breeches be the last article of clothing to hit the floor. He fluidly climbed onto the bed, crawling toward her tantalizing form, pale against the green coverlet. Tavington was atop her at once, hugging her to him, his hands spreading fire all the way down to her toes and back up again.

Vivienne's lips moved from his neck down his chest, wanting to taste him completely. Tavington was tiring of the foreplay, but he wasn't quite done yet. He wanted her to plead, to _beg_ him to take her once and for all. His hand slid up her inner thigh, her responsive sharp intake of breath making him smile.

"Oh I can tell that you remember this," he murmured, sliding two fingers into her at once, swirling them inside her wetness.

"William," she gasped, clutching his sweaty hair. This only encouraged him. His mouth moved down to her breast, his other hand firm on her hip. Her back arched and this time she cried out more loudly, not able to control herself. His fingers pumped harder into her throbbing womanhood and his name burst again from her freshly kissed lips.

High on his touch, Vivienne wanted to please him as much as he was pleasing her. Her hand darted down to his cock, stiff with wanting her. She grasped him firmly, sliding her clenched fist up and down his erection.

Transported away from simple delight and into the realm of utter rapture, Tavington knew he would not hold up long under her touch. He wanted to have her fully, make her his, right now. Now he would finally have her.

He reached down to unwrap her hand from his aching member and lay it gently on the bedcover beside her. Both his hands slid up her sides and he lowered his pelvis to hers. She let out a small gasp as he filled her slowly.

"Brace yourself, Vivienne, my darling," he whispered, lips brushing her mouth. He drew back out of her, then, without warning, thrust himself back into her. Her small cry seemed to penetrate the ever-melting layer of coldness around him and he kissed her, whispering promises he well intended to keep

Tears squeezed through her eyelids and he kissed her wet cheeks. She trusted him.

The white-hot pain exploding through Vivienne's loins became a vivid pleasure more intensely wonderful that anything she had felt before. Tavington moved with her as she bucked in response to the joy shooting through her, both lovers breathing hard and fast as their movements accelerated.

They both reached the peak of joy at the same moment, savoring the spasm of delight and the fuzzy exhaustion that followed.

The sweat cooled on their bodies, and they slipped beneath the sheets, bodies still tangled together, fitting perfectly. Vivienne lovingly laid her head on her husband's warm chest, his arms holding her close.

With her ear just above his heart, the soft, thudding beats lulled her to sleep.


	21. Benefits of Marriage

Vivienne woke earlier than she normally would have. Feeling something was wrong, she saw at last she was alone in bed. A sound made her look up.

Tavington was standing near the foot of the bed facing the mirror. She could see he was fully dressed and was just buckling his belt now.

"William," Vivienne's voice carried softly towards his ears in the dim light. He turned to look at her, sitting vulnerably with her knees hugged to her chest.

More than anything he wished to be back in bed with her, but Cornwallis was not a patient man and would not tolerate Tavington being late for the morning patrol.

"I've got to get to camp, darling. I'll be back this afternoon." William Tavington strode forward to gently cup his bride's chin in his hands. "I'll miss you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. She put her hand on his wrist as he pulled away, looking up at him.

"I love you," Vivienne whispered, lifting his fingertips to her lips. He smiled in the darkness.

"You test my control, but I must go, Cornwallis couldn't fight this war without me." With a last kiss, and a smirk, he was gone.

Vivienne got out of bed hours later, stretching, then wincing as she felt the soreness between her legs. For some reason, it made her smile.

Vivienne's mind spun with happy thoughts as she dressed. She never had dreamed her life would take such an unpredictable turn. If only her parents had come to give their blessings at the wedding . . . They never did write back.

Vivienne's stomach growled with hunger. Glancing down at her rumbling belly, Vivienne wondered what a baby's kick would feel like. Her mother told her it was possible for a woman to become pregnant the first time she slept with a man.

Vivienne smiled, feeling silly. The chance of that was slim. For now, she and William had all the time in the world to do as they pleased.

Tavington halted his horse just outside of the town stables that evening. As he dismounted, he heard his name being shouted. Turning towards the sound, he was barely able to register what was going on before Vivienne leapt into his arms.

"Thank goodness, you're home. I haven't known what to do with myself all day. I was so lonely," she purred, smiling slowly. Tavington looked at her sideways, raising an eyebrow.

"You're . . . not sore from last night?"

"Oh yes, of course I am, but it's far better than it was this morning."

"Well, since it seems you can indeed walk, I haven't stayed true to my word, then. We'll have to fix that."

With an arm about Vivienne's waist, Tavington lead her towards the secluded little house.

Vivienne leaned out the window several weeks later and retched, emptying the contents of her stomach. She leaned back when she was finished, exhausted.

How alone she felt, sick and tired in this dark house. She needed William to be by her side now, to take her in his arms and reassure her everything would be all right.

Because Vivienne was getting the feeling everything was far from all right.


	22. Secret

The weeks wore on and the war continued. Benjamin Martin continued to be a problem to the British army. Tavington, who was assigned to take care of the matter, was losing favor with Cornwallis at each humiliating ambush on the British. Tavington's anger escalated until he was on the brink of explosion.

Despite his smug victories over the redcoats, Benjamin Martin still wasn't satisfied and wouldn't be until Colonel William Tavington was a broken man.

His spies had been carefully watching Tavington and the girl who so foolishly married him. A feeling was lodging itself in Benjamin's mind - a strange premonition. It was as if the eye of a hurricane was passing over them all, convincing, so easy to trust in.

But soon the calm would pass and the storm would rage on, more deadly than before.

* * *

Tavington walked through the doorway one particularly tiring afternoon, expecting Vivienne to come running at his homecoming as she usually did, but today only silence greeted him.

Tavington warily scanned the dim little home, listening. A soft noise seemed to come from above, and Tavington ran up the stairs and burst into the bedroom, expecting the worst.

Vivienne lay in a fetal position on the bed, unmoving but very much awake. She sat up at once when Tavington called her name. He sat down beside her, worry etched on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked with alarm. She licked her dry lips and tentatively reached forward to take his hand.

"Ah, it's nothing. I just . . . don't feel like myself today, " she said slowly. Tavington was surprised to hear more caution in her voice than fear. His eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but he didn't push her any further.

"If you are all right, I have some papers to complete before tomorrow." He stood and left the room, his footsteps sounding farther and farther away . . .

When she was absolutely positive he was out of hearing distance, Vivienne rushed over to close the door, collapsing against the wood, sobbing her heart out. _How am I going to tell him?_

Vivienne was pregnant. She had missed three of her monthly courses, which had never happened to her before.

Tavington had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with children, and Vivienne wouldn't put it past him to leave her if he found out.

She put her hand on her still-flat belly and forced herself to take a deep breath. She wouldn't start to show for several more months. That was enough time to figure out how to tell him . . .


	23. Wake Up

Tavington had slept with countless women during his career. Women, he had once thought, were not as complicated as the married soldiers insisted. But that was before Tavington had been forced to deal with female _hormones_. He cared for Vivienne, but he did not care for her wild mood swings and strange cravings.

There had been one situation when she woke him in the middle of the night wanting to go swim in the moonlit river. She had been entirely awake, but entirely sane . . .? And how she ate these days! Anything and everything that was put before her went straight into her mouth.

To add to all that was her unresponsiveness to him. She refused to talk to him and flinched whenever he took her in his arms. At night, he would occasionally wake to the sound of her soft crying.

Tavington lost much sleep over his wife's possible insanity and wandered the British camp like a zombie.

"Have you noticed Tavington's behavior lately?" General O'Hara commented to one of his men during a patrol. The soldier being addressed nodded.

"He has been acting rather odd."

"Surely we won't find out what the cause is - that man strictly keeps to himself."

Baffled, the two men kicked their horses and rode on. Tavington was usually strict and proper and forgot nary a thing. As Vivienne's behavior continued to puzzle him, however, he had quite a time keeping his focus on the war. Tavington's new aide-de-camp, Captain Bordon, could ignore the matter no longer.

"Colonel, there is something troubling you?" Bordon blurted to his superior one afternoon, expecting a sharp insult in return. Tavington pursed his lips and turned to the Captain.

"You are married, correct, Captain?"

"Yes, sir. Is Vivienne causing you trouble?" Tavington shot him a brief look. Bordon's calling Vivienne by name was an informality Tavington was not comfortable with. He shrugged it off, trying not to obsess over such a small problem when there were more important things at hand.

"She's been acting like a lunatic for weeks. Mood swings, cravings for the most peculiar things . . . I can't bear to be in the same room with her."

Bordon was not a stupid man. He had been married far longer than the Colonel and had a fine young son. Bordon suspected he knew what was causing Vivienne's odd behavior.

"Sir, my wife acted in a similar way when . . . when she was pregnant with our son."

Tavington's whole world ground to a halt. _There was no way . . . _

"I have something I need to attend to. Please continue the patrol in my absence," he said over his shoulder to Bordon as he left the camp.

Bordon watched the Colonel go, a sinking feeling coming over the Captain. If Vivienne _was_ with child, she would be tied to Tavington even more.

The Captain swore under his breath as he gripped his horse's bridle and led the beast to the grazing area. Bordon had felt a strong pull towards Vivienne from the moment he saw her but did not act on it due to Tavington's fierce shielding of the young woman from the other officers.

Bordon had come to lose hope in his chances with her until that night she had kissed him. The fact that she was attracted to him boosted Bordon's confidence. He resolved not to give up on her.

After all, if she was pregnant, Tavington would probably want nothing to do with her anyway.

* * *

Vivienne had lost weight, despite the baby growing within her. She couldn't bear keeping this from her husband, but she had refrained from telling him for so long . . .

It tore her apart, knowing she was deceiving him, but how could she go to him now? He would be far angrier she had kept this secret from him for such a dreadfully long time than because of her actual pregnancy. Vivienne was about to make the tedious climb up the stairs to the bedroom and cry her anxieties out when the front door swung open.

Tavington stood, staring at her with revelation in his eyes. She couldn't tell if he was angry. Vivienne was the first one to break the stare, her hands going for her belly, then quickly redirecting themselves to lay at her sides. Tavington stepped forward.

"Vivienne, come here," he commanded softly.

Vivienne mistook his soft voice for concealed rage and shook her head, backing away from him. Tavington sighed. There was no way around this.

"Are you," he paused, the words tasting foreign in his mouth " . . . are you carrying my child?"

Vivienne's head jerked up to meet his gaze. He didn't look to be angry . . .

Gingerly, she stepped toward him, pursing her trembling lips, and he rushed to her, taking her in his arms.

"God, Vivienne, why didn't you tell me the moment you knew?" he murmured into her hair. Her shoulders shook with her weeping and she put her arms around him.

"I knew you didn't want a child, William. I felt it was . . . my fault. I thought you would leave me." She looked up at him, her eyes red with tears. "I couldn't bear that."

Tavington's hand cradled the back of her head, holding her as she cried into him. He was shocked that her expectations of him were so low. The fact that he didn't want a child was true, but now . . . what was to be done?

He didn't want the baby, but he wanted Vivienne, _needed_ Vivienne. Expressing his anger would only distress her further. She would need to be happy and healthy to survive carrying and birthing this baby, _his_ baby.

"Vivienne, this baby is a blessing. How could I be upset with you?" She looked up at him in disbelief, and he felt slightly guilty for lying to her, but he knew it would be for the best. He could live with this.

"You're serious?" she asked with surprise plain on her face.

"I don't know much about being a father," he attempted a smile "But I suppose this is the only way to learn."

"William!" Vivienne kissed his cheek in a mixture of delight and relief, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"Our own family, our own - " Suddenly she broke off, her eyes wide. She grabbed Tavington's hand without explanation and pressed it to her rounded belly, hidden by her loose dress.

Stillness, then . . . Tavington felt a sudden pressure against his hand, like the beating of a tiny drum. Vivienne grinned, her smile radiant with joy.

"Did you feel that? The baby kicked - just for you." Tavington was frozen, his hand still firmly planted on Vivienne's stomach.

"We created that, you and I," Vivienne whispered, enjoying Tavington's uncharacteristic expression of stupefaction. His mind whirled. _How remarkable . . ._ There was indeed a small life developing within Vivienne.

Tavington was oblivious to the absent-minded blankness that had crept onto his usually alert visage . . . He also failed to notice the questioning looks the men in his patrol were giving him.

Had the stress of the war fully grasped Tavington's unstable mind at last? The soldiers didn't know, but they weren't about to ask. The Colonel was always quick to hand out punishments, no matter what his mental state.

* * *

William ran the tips of his fingers along the side of Vivienne's face, tracing his fingers to the bottom of her chin to pull her lips to his.

Tavington had come home early from the camp that day, and his wife would not let him have a second to himself. She had dragged him into the bedroom the moment he walked through the door. Now they lay in bed, facing each other.

Tavington's fingers drifted down Vivienne's neck all the way to her belly, round as the full moon. He could not tear his eyes from her stomach, utterly amazed that their son or daughter was growing there, waiting to arrive and become part of their world.

Vivienne scooted closer to him, nestling her head into his chest.

"Do you think the war will be over before the baby comes?" she asked softly, curving a warm arm around his back. Tavington shook his head.

"I can't predict that," he offered, wishing he knew. "There hasn't been much news at camp lately." Vivienne pulled away far enough for him to see the confusion on her face.

"I overheard some soldiers in town yesterday saying they had just received word that the militia men are on the move. They had been attacking more British supply wagons or something. That's not news?"

Tavington blinked, inwardly pummeling himself for being so oblivious the past few days. _You're obsessing over a _baby_. This is a war. Would you have given a second thought to the matter of a baby before all this? Most definitely not, _Tavington told himself, hardening. He stood and dressed quickly.

"Where are you going?" Vivienne held the sheet to cover her as she stood as well, wanting to grab his arm. His back to her, Tavington's reply came curtly.

"To camp. I fear I've missed much information these days." He whipped his hair back into a queue and was gone.

Vivienne sighed, flopping back down on the bed. How odd it was - her desperate ache to be with William every free second he had. She wished she had tried harder to keep him back.

Seducing him usually didn't prove too difficult a task . . . Though Tavington was a much different man than when Vivienne had first met him, he had hardly been transformed into a saint. His cold military personality remained, stubbornly refusing to budge.

Vivienne thought of their child, resting her hand on her belly. Maybe with the birth of the baby she could convince Tavington to resign from the army and move their little family away some place quiet. A little house in the country with wood trim and window boxes overflowing with flowers . . .


	24. A New Plan

Tavington strutted into camp, forcing himself to stay alert. His watchful expression looked very much like harsh suspicion to the other men. Thinking Tavington was out for blood today, they all gave him a wide berth. But Tavington either didn't notice or didn't care as he quickly wove his way through the cringing soldiers to Lord General Cornwallis' tent.

"Sir!"

Cornwallis looked up to see Colonel Tavington standing at attention only feet away from the General's desk.

"At ease, Colonel."

"Sir, there is a new issue with the continental militia?" Cornwallis fixed him with a hard look.

"Hopefully you have a solution to this 'issue', seeing as you are the one assigned to deal with that 'Ghost.' "

"If you wouldn't mind filling me in, sir . . .? I haven't been myself these days," Tavington said, never missing a beat despite this embarrassment. Cornwallis looked annoyed, but he complied.

"Very well. The militia of your Ghost set fire to our wagons of gunpowder arriving from England. General O'Hara attempted to cease their efforts, but he and his men were driven away before he was able to. We ordered a new shipment of gunpowder, but it shall take time to arrive. When it does, I expect to receive it without a problem." With that, Cornwallis looked back down to the map he was inspecting, making it clear that Tavington was dismissed.

As the Colonel left the tent, an idea slithered into his mind. Eyes glowing, Tavington smiled to himself.

"Oh yes. That shall do nicely."

* * *

Vivienne had fallen asleep in her rocking chair when she heard her husband come in. Stretching, she walked slowly down to meet him. As Vivienne turned the corner, she stopped abruptly at the sight that met her eyes. Tavington stood in the doorway, looking almost normal, but there was something in his eyes that made Vivienne very uneasy. Within a second the look vanished and Tavington regarded Vivienne's shocked expression with concern.

"Are you all right, Vivienne?"

"What are you planning?!" she blurted suddenly. It was as if the words did not belong to her. He looked at her with an unwavering gaze.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about . . . although," He relaxed "I suppose I should tell you I will be gone for a couple days on a special assignment." Tavington felt slightly guilty at his wife's responsive hurt expression. She was silent for a moment before replying,

"Of course. When must you leave?"

"Early tomorrow morning. I'll wake you before I set off." He stepped forward and kissed Vivienne's forehead before brushing past her to the kitchen.

Vivienne looked after him, feeling worried, though she didn't know why.


	25. Burn the Chruch

Private Chapman nodded to Captain Bordon as the Green Dragoons rode to Jefferson town.

"The Butcher is back, eh?"

Bordon followed Chapman's gaze to Colonel Tavington riding at the head of the calvary. Tavington's cool expression of superiority had returned and he was alert as ever. Bordon shook his head.

"I thought the idea of a baby would have daunted the man," he muttered to himself. But the last thing Tavington looked was daunted as he led his cavalry into the small town, his devious plan lurking at the corners of his smile.

"This town has given aid to Benjamin Martin and his rebels."

After herding the citizens of Jefferson Town into their church, Tavington addressed the people from atop his horse.

"I wish to know his whereabouts." Tavington scanned the nervous faces around him. _Come on, one of you must know something . . ._

"So . . . anyone who comes forward may be forgiven their treason," He tried again. The populace before him remained silent.

How guilty they looked as their eyes darted about, tongues wetting dry lips . . . A woman holding a small baby caught Tavington's attention. Perhaps this whole idea was overkill and Tavington should leave these people to their simple lives . . . He caught himself sharply. _ The idea of a baby has softened you. Stop this foolish behavior and do what's right for the King's army. _

The silence continued, but Tavington had one more trick up his sleeve.

"Very well. You had your chance," he said nonchalantly, and was turning his horse around as a cry rang out through the air.

"Wait!" A pudgy-faced man in the back called out. _Finally._ Tavington listened as the man told him of Martin's whereabouts - a marsh near the old Spanish mission.

"Thank you very much," Tavington looked at the traitor mock-sincerely and almost sneered as the man's face glowed with hope of being released.

Tavington paused to glance around at the rest of Jefferson Town's people, all looking frantic now. The fun was over. Tavington now knew where to seek out this "Ghost."

"Shut the doors" Tavington turned his horse around, not looking back as the pudgy-faced betrayer called out after him.

"But . . . you said we'd be forgiven!"

Now outside, Tavington turned to face the man.

"And indeed you may." He couldn't resist a mocking smirk "But that is between you and God." With that, the Colonel's Dragoons shut the doors and put a heavy chain across them, locking it with a padlock.

"Ready to fire the town on your orders sir," Captain Wilkins said, bringing his mount up to Tavington's.

The image of that woman and her baby refused to budge from Tavington's mind and he cleared his throat loudly to drown out the panicked screams from the people in the church. There would be no leniency from Colonel William Tavington - the "Butcher" not today, not ever. A baby wouldn't do that to him.

"The town?" Tavington scoffed "No, burn the church."

Wilkins hesitated. He was a good man. Much too kind for this type of work.

"Burn the church, Captain," Tavington repeated more slowly, as if talking to a child.

Wilkins took a torch from one of the other Dragoons and, under Tavington's watchful gaze, threw it onto the roof of the church. The Dragoons rode out of town, blocking out the screams and cries of pain exploding from the flaming church.

Tavington worked his plan through his mind once more as the Dragoons headed back in the direction of the British camp. Tavington knew he would have time before Martin came looking for him. Enough time to make camp for the night, relax a bit . . .

Gabriel stood outside the burning church, listening to the sounds of his fellow militia men sobbing over their loved ones, lost in the fire. His nostrils flared and he began hyperventilating in disbelief.

He ran to Anne's house, calling her name until he felt it could no longer be squeezed from his throat. He walked back to the church and saw something he had missed before - on what was left of the door, a padlock connected thick chains. _They had been locked inside . . . _

Gabriel felt his hands crunching into fists. He walked past the chained door, feeling sick to his stomach. As he glanced down into the ashes, a glint of silver caught his eye. He leaned down and retrieved his late mother's necklace, the crisp blue ribbon now black as it crumbled in his hands. Gabriel's father had given this necklace to Anne as a wedding gift. Gabriel tucked the charm into his pocket and stood, a plan firm in his mind. There was only one man who could be responsible for an act such as this.

When Tavington called for a break, his men slipped off their mounts and began unpacking tents setting up camp under a little patch of trees near a stream. Tavington was proudly admiring his perfect campground when Bordon edged up beside him.

"Sir, Captain Wilkins informed me there is a town, Savannah, not far from here that supposedly has gunpowder for a fairly low price - something we are in need of since the militia destroyed our last shipment."

The thought of getting back on his mount and riding for several more hours nearly made Colonel Tavington groan, but the gun powder made it a tempting offer . . .

"Bordon, are you tired?"

"Not at all, sir." Bordon straightened up.

"Then why don't you take a few men out early tomorrow morning and ride ahead there."

"You talk as if you won't be coming, sir."

"Oh I won't." Tavington smiled slightly "I'll be sleeping in." It would be better to have Bordon out of the way when Martin and his men came, lest the Captain get killed and leave Tavington with Captain Wilkins as his aide-de-camp. Wilkins was far too headstrong for Tavington's taste.

Bordon seemed confused, but he nodded.

"Some of our colonial loyalists have family in Savannah and it is likely they'll want to come along also."

"Very well. You depart tomorrow morning then. I'll bring the rest of the men and we shall meet back at camp."

Bordon nodded sharply and left to unpack his tent. Tavington smiled unpleasantly as he thought of the surprise Martin and his men would have when they attacked his much larger and superior force.

The Ghost would finally be laid to rest in his grave.


	26. Survivor

Tavington found it strange waking the next morning without Vivienne's warmth beside him, but he ignored this and left his tent to address the men.

Even before he had spoken to anyone, Tavington knew something was wrong. The camp was not bustling with its inhabitants as it should have been. Instead, about 15 of the 50 or so men who had come to Jefferson town were rousing themselves.

Tavington felt his anger rising. Damn. Leave it to Bordon to misinterpret orders and condemn his Colonel to a humiliating defeat by the militia! Wanting to confirm his suspicions Tavington walked up to Elijah Simmons, one of the other captains.

"How many men are there in this camp?" Tavington barked, startling the man.

"14, counting you, sir." Simmons replied.

"Why are there so many with Bordon?" Tavington said through gritted teeth.

"They all had business in Savannah, sir. Mostly family business."

Tavington sighed, rubbing a finger thoughtfully over his unshaven cheek.

"Prepare the men. We shall be leaving in fifteen minutes," he ordered, watching Simmons march off to do his job, feeling important. Tavington packed up his things in a matter of minutes and felt he had a moment or two to shave before the men departed. After all, looking like a savage in front of the Lord General was never a good idea.

The Colonel knelt by the stream with his razor, dragging the blade across his cheek. Within a few minutes, he was shaving absentmindedly, thinking of Vivienne and the baby. Though Cornwallis would probably be hoping Tavington wouldn't return, at least Vivienne would be pleased to see him.

Tavington broke away from his thoughts as a faint shout reached his ears. He glanced up abruptly to see a group of men on horseback come riding over the hill. Tavington stood quickly, wiping his cheek and going for his saddlebag, where his pistol was. Judging from their clothing, these men were militia. Benjamin Martin wasn't with them, but the blond youth furiously leading the pack so looked awfully familiar . . .

The militia was at the bottom of the hill now, already dismounting to battle with the British soldiers coming out of the trees with weapons raised. Tavington gripped his pistol.

The blond youth was glancing about as if searching for something. Tavington was not the least bit surprised when the youth's gaze came to rest on him. Tavington loaded his pistol slowly, watching the boy begin to make his way down the hill toward his target. _Ah, he's not as agile as he looks,_ the Colonel thought snidely.

His own men were not faring well in this battle. It was time to even the score a bit.

Tavington reached for his rapier, drawing it just in time to slice through a militiaman coming toward him. The Colonel looked up to see the blond youth coming closer, his lips set in a hard angry grimace, his movements fast and hard. Tavington stood his ground, continuing to shoot down his enemies, or whip his rapier through them if they got too close.

Tavington smacked a man in the nose hard with the hilt of his sword, and shot the man as he went down. A flash of red caught Tavington's eye. Simmons was battling the young blond man only feet away, and was losing.

The battle continued on around Tavington and Gabriel as they moved closer and closer to each other. Tavington's gaze locked with that of an older man who seemed to be a priest. The priest reloaded his gun, not appearing particularly holy at the moment. Tavington quickly reloaded his own pistol, biting off the end of his gunpowder cartridge.

Both aimed at the same time, but Tavington's reflexes were quicker. He fired, watching the priest crumple to the ground, his loaded gun still in his hands.

In this time, Gabriel had killed Simmons and watched the priest go down with hard, dark eyes. The youth swept up the priest's discarded, but loaded, rifle and aimed at Tavington, who had only just finished reloading. The Colonel aimed his pistol at Gabriel's heart and a shot cracked through the air.

This time, it was Gabriel's reflexes that had triumphed.

Tavington clasped his hands to the hole in his side as he went down, the clockworks of his mind still going, inventing a plan despite his wound. Tavington hit the ground deliberately on his stomach, forcing himself to remain completely still.

He listened to the boy walk up to his prostrate form, hoping he would be right in his assumption of the boy's naïveté. No rifle was cocked, and the feet of the familiar youth were now at Tavington's side. He listened carefully as a rabbit, waiting. Finally, a small grunt escaped the boy and Tavington whirled up, driving his rapier under the boy's rib cage at the perfect time.

Shock registered in those dark, young eyes as the boy gasped for breath. His face was so close to the Colonel's that Tavington could see each individual freckle on that suntanned nose.

Tavington found with surprise he did not take any pleasure in this fight as he usually did. It was all about survival. If the boy was any kind of soldier, he would understand that.

The youth fell backwards onto the grass, still gasping, and Tavington pulled his bloody rapier out of the boy.

All at once, the adrenaline left the Colonel and he hunched over in pain. A red flower was blooming several inches above his left hip. Tavington pressed his hand to the wound and mounted his horse, realizing, as he rode away, he was the only survivor of the battle.


	27. A Close Call

"Tell me about this battle." Vivienne poured two mugs of steaming tea and brought them to the small living room where Tavington was seated in one of the wingback chairs. Tavington looked up at her, feeling uneasy. If he told her the truth of what he had done, she would be very angry. . . and if she ran away from him again in her current condition, she might hurt herself.

"That's a story for another time, darling. It's not a pleasant one." He took a mug from her, sipping the hot liquid slowly.

Vivienne nodded, a crafty look coming over her face. She edged toward him.

"Could I persuade you to tell me?"

"Vivienne - " He was cut off as she straddled his lap, her soft hands coming up to the sides of his face. She leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the lips before leaning back to make room for her stomach.

"I barely fit anymore, don't I?" Slight embarrassment came over her features. _She thought herself ugly. _Tavington stood, Vivienne's legs wrapping around his waist.

"Perhaps we just need a bigger chair - or preferably a bed." He carried her off to the bedroom, her musical laugh warming his heart.

"I have an important meeting with the Lord General today. I must go." William pried Vivienne's arms off his neck the next morning, kissing her pouting lips as he stood to dress.

"I'll be here when you return, as I always am," Vivienne muttered dryly, shifting up onto her elbows. Tavington shot a glance back at her as he pulled on his jacket.

"You must have found some sort of hobby by now?" he asked. She was bored here at home, where she knew no one except him.

"I've been sewing. It's not that I mind, I just . . . get lonely." Vivienne ran a hand through her mussed hair. "Are you sure you don't have just one extra minute to spend with me?"

"Vivienne," Tavington stepped closer to the bed. "You're six months pregnant. Surely this can't be . . . healthy for the baby?"

Vivienne let the sheets fall away from her naked form as she sat up straight, smiling seductively.

"I am perfectly able to engage in lovemaking until my eighth month. I spoke to the town midwife." Tavington was silent. He really couldn't afford to be late today, but with Vivienne looking at him this way . . .

"I could possibly spare _one_ minute," he murmured as he leaned down over her, sliding his jacket off once more.

"Tavington! You are late." Cornwallis was glaring at the Colonel through narrowed eyes

_Damn, it's only ten extra minutes . . . _Tavington thought frustratedly, but he kept his face calm.

"I apologize, your Lordship. There was . . . an interference with my leaving this morning." Cornwallis eyed him suspiciously, but relented.

"Don't allow it to happen again, Colonel." Cornwallis turned to face General O'Hara, Colonel Talborne, and Lieutenant Perry. "Well then, gentlemen, shall we commence with the meeting?"

Tavington sat down at the table with the rest of the men, knowing Cornwallis would reprimand Tavington for his lack of punctuality later.

Vivienne sipped at her tea. She hadn't been motivated to do much of anything today, except drink tea. The town grocery had some fine green tea leaves imported from the East that Vivienne adored.

She rose, feeling sleepy. A short nap would pass the time rather well. . . then she could sew again when she woke. Just as Vivienne was about to begin the long climb up the stairs, there was a knock at the door. Thinking it would be Tavington, she rushed to open the door.

Instead, Bordon stood there, looking nervously at her.

"Captain . . . what may I do for you?" she asked, polite despite her astonishment.

"May I come in? I'd like to speak with you."

She nodded, standing aside so he could enter the house. Vivienne led her guest into the small sitting room, offering him tea as she sat beside him on the sofa.

"Please," he said with a smile. Vivienne complied, pouring tea for both of them, gesturing to the sofa so they could sit.

"Hmm, green tea?" He mused after taking a sip. "It's lovely."

"Yes," Vivienne could not help but be delighted that he shared her appetite for green tea. She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the way his hands gently encased the teacup, how his clear, green eyes were kind, concealing no hint of the cruelty she saw every now and then in Tavington's gaze. Silence passed awkwardly between them as they sipped at their tea, avoiding each other's eyes. Finally, Bordon set down his cup gently, taking Vivienne's free hand in both of his large, warm ones. He held her hand as gently as he had held the teacup.

"Vivienne, I cannot stop thinking about what passed between us that night at camp - "

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, trying to slip her hand out of his. "I was not myself. I - I needed someone and you were there, I . . . " she trailed off once she realized she was babbling. Bordon had held her slim hand securely in his, even as she trembled and stuttered out excuses.

"Yes, I was there. And I can always be there." She tentatively met his gaze to see the sincerity and tenderness with which he looked upon her.

_No, I cannot be with you. I am carrying William's child, _she wanted to say, but her lips would not form the words.

"You cannot want me," she said instead "Look how fat I am."

"You've never looked more beautiful Vivienne. Do not doubt that I want you. I want you very much." His eyes had taken on a darker hue as he said this, and she could see in them the truth of his words.

Sitting here, gazing into his face, Vivienne found herself curious to see if the caress of his lips would be as tender and soft as the last time.

Inwardly she throttled herself. _You came so close to being the unfaithful spouse you so despise in others,_ she chided to the silly part of her aching for another kiss.

"I think it would be best," Vivienne said levelly, staring into her lap "if you left now."

Bordon sighed. Not a sigh of frustration, not a sigh of disappointment, but a soft sigh of melancholy. He looked at her until her gaze floated up to meet his. Lifting his hand, he gingerly reached for her face, slowly, as if she was a spirited filly he was trying to tame. When his fingertips connected with her cheek, Vivienne betrayed herself, releasing a small sigh she did not realize she had been holding back. Strangely, his fingers left her tingling skin and the corner of his lip quirked up in a smile. A smile of relief. She was not frozen to his touch, though he could tell she wanted to be.

"Very well," he murmured, his eyes not leaving hers. "I will leave, but know that I do not plan to give up so easily." With that, he stood and left the house, his boots clunking along the wooden panels and out the door.

When she was sure she was alone, Vivienne sank back onto the couch cushions. _That was close. Too close._ But she was convinced it was her love for her husband that held her back. She pictured William's face, set in the handsome smirk that made her swoon even still. He loved her too, she knew it, and she would not betray him.


	28. Mistake

"Your Lordship?" Tavington stood at attention. He had finished his patrol and was eager to return home, but Cornwallis had, as Tavington had expected he would, called the Colonel into his tent.

"You are never late, Colonel. Punctuality is one of the few things I can rely on you for. However, now even that is in question." Cornwallis leaned forward on his desk so he could glare more fiercely into his defiant Colonel's eyes. "You put yourself closer and closer to expulsion from this army, Colonel. I grow sick, bloody _sick_ of your attitude!"

Tavington nodded impatiently, silently begging Cornwallis to make this short, but it seemed the Lord General was in the mood for a good rant, and Tavington was unfortunately forced to hear it. _Just wait it out, there's no way you can get out of this,_ Tavington thought restlessly.

By the time he was free to go, after checking in with the other captains and receiving reports, it was dusk. Tension wound in coils up Tavington's spine, and he still had to make his evening patrol before he could return home. He flung aside his tent flap to find himself face to face with a curvaceous blonde woman. They stared at each other for a moment before Tavington broke the silence.

"May I ask what you are doing here, before my tent, miss?" She giggled, sticking out her chest.

"You give me far too much credit there, sir. I's no proper young 'miss.' That's for sure." Her voice was sultry as she gave him a look that spoke volumes about why she was there.

Tavington's pride soared. He had always been popular among the camp followers. Tavington looked the woman over, not realizing how much he had missed picking out a different whore for each night. Vivienne was his wife, yes, but she was his property and would contend with his conditions to their marriage. If he wanted a taste of something new, she could hardly object.

"Come," he invited, putting his arm around the woman's waist as he led her into his tent "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Sir!" Bordon brushed aside Tavington's tent flap to deliver news of the evening patrol, only to find the colonel locked in the embrace of a blonde woman. The Captain stood still, paralyzed with shock as Tavington broke from the woman in annoyance.

"Can you not see that I am busy, Bordon?" He growled, eyes cold. Bordon nodded stiffly, all thoughts of his report vaporized as he bolted back through the tent flap.

Vivienne sat nervously in the kitchen. Tavington had never been this late before. It was dark, and her stomach was cramping in hunger. _Perhaps General Cornwallis has kept him for being late this morning_, she thought with worry, hoping that her husband's lateness was not her fault.

When at last she heard the door creak open, she leapt to her feet, dashing to the foyer.

"Will - "

She stopped when she saw him. His hair was unwound from its queue and his clothes were askew, his cravat unknotted. However, it was the cloying stench of perfume emanating from him that made her most suspicious. He closed the door and turned to her.

"What is the matter, Vivienne?" He was perfectly calm. "Well?" He held up his arms and she obediently stepped into them, kissing him as she always did. She breathed in shallowly to avoid the scent of the perfume, parting her lips to let his tongue entwine with hers. Suddenly, she pulled away.

"William, you taste different. What –" _No, he wouldn't . . ._ "You haven't . . . been with another woman?" _Say no, please._ She silently begged him to laugh at her silliness and take her in his arms.

"And if I have?" His voice was cool as the metal blade of his rapier, piercing her heart.

"How could you?" Vivienne was stunned, but not too stunned to be furious with him.

"It was not planned, darling. But I needed a fix and you weren't there - "

"Is this what our marriage is worth to you? Is this what our _love_ is worth to you? How can you take so scared a sacrament and shatter it? What rules _will_ you obey?" Her voice had risen to a scream, her eyes fiery, hazed in red.

"Vivienne, stop all this," Tavington interrupted sharply, his lip quivering in anger. "Let's have dinner – "

"I will not sit down to eat with an adulterer - "

"That is enough!" Tavington's hand came down across her cheek, the resulting smack resounding through the air. She tottered backwards, breathing shakily as she clutched her throbbing cheek. Tavington came forward, backing her against the wall.

"You will not speak to me in such a way, Vivienne. You are my wife, and I am able to do with you as I please. If I desire to have another woman, I am lawfully free to do so, and you will have no say in it. But such an occurrence is not routine. You are carrying my child and therefore the most important woman in my life." He kissed her cheek before striding off into the dining room.

Tavington felt a pang of guilt as he left his stricken wife standing in the foyer. Bedding the blonde had been instinctual, and, though he once would have congratulated himself on another conquest, this time he felt sick with himself for betraying Vivienne so. He had not intended for her to find out, but the disarray of his clothing and hair would have been hard to ignore, not to mention the stench of perfume. Why was it that whores always wore such strong perfume?

He sighed, silently acknowledging his mistake. There would be no more whores. As it was, he had pained his wife deeply, and carrying a child, she was substantially more delicate these days.

Vivienne came to sit at the table, eyes empty. She sat next to her husband as she always did, but her usual smiles and flirtations were absent tonight. Silence thickened between them as the servants brought out the food. Soft scrapings of forks and knives on ceramic resounded painfully in Tavington's ears, but his pride would not allow him to apologize.


	29. Jeopardy

**Dear me, this is incredibly late - I'm sorry! I've had finals at school and have been out of town since last saturday, so there hasn't been much time or energy for creativity over here. But now that school is out for summer, I should hopefully be able to update more regularly. Please bear with me, everyone. I appreciate the time you are taking to read this, and your reviews make me very very happy! :-)**

**This chapter is for JScorpio and the other Bordon fans who are reading this :-)**

* * *

Vivienne was too angry to cry as she followed her husband upstairs. She knew he would not hurt her if she refused his advances tonight - for the sake of the baby at least.

Never had Vivienne felt so desperately the need for revenge as she crawled beneath the covers. Shifting her body as far away from Tavington as possible, she waited in tense silence for him to fall asleep. Her whole body was still hot with rage fifteen minutes later when William's soft snores began.

Vivienne waited another half an hour, just in case, before slipping out of bed and down the stairs. She had to restrain herself from throwing open the door as she eased it open with only the softest creak. Then she was free, running into the night, her aching back and exhaustion forgotten as adrenaline pumped through her veins.

Vivienne was a woman on a dark mission as she sneaked past the dozing guards at the army camp like a shadow. There would only be one person who would know she was here tonight . . .

She had to peek into several tents in the officer's quadrant before finding Bordon's. Inside, he slept, blankets strewn around his bare chest.

No longer self-conscious of her pregnant belly, Vivienne strode forward, straddling Bordon's sleeping form. He stirred only slightly at the added weight. Vivienne leaned forward, her long hair falling to brush Bordon's face, as she pressed her lips to his, pleased at the way he responded to her even in his sleep, groaning softly.

All at once, his eyes popped open and he sat up, grasping her forearms. They just looked at each other for a moment, until Bordon's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Do not use me, Vivienne," he growled in a low voice.

"I want you," she replied fiercely, her fingers going for the catch on his breeches as she kissed him at the same time. As much as Bordon wanted to resist her, a part of him desired to give in to her. The latter won out as she yanked down his pants and slipped her nightgown up over her head.

Bordon took control then, gently flipping her beneath him. Her fingers wove into his auburn hair and she pulled him closer, his lips finding her neck. He let his hands caress her slowly and softly, well aware of her delicate condition.

As Bordon lowered his hips to hers, one hand on the sweet roundness of her belly, he found himself wishing that the child she carried was his. This thought sent a brief wave of melancholy washing over him, but Vivienne distracted him with a playful nip to his neck, grinding her hips up against his. Aroused once more, Bordon leaned in, pushing into her. Though he wanted to set the pace hard and fast, he forced himself to thrust into her slowly and fully, savoring the moment with Vivienne that would probably be his last.

The sound of her soft moans was music to Bordon's ears and he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply.

When it was over, Vivienne lay tangled sweetly in Bordon's arms, her dark hair spread out over his chest. He sighed, not wanting to sleep, for he knew when he awoke, the moment would be over.

Even as his eyelids drooped, Bordon knew he had been nothing but a tool in Vivienne's vengeance. It hurt, knowing they would never be together, but at least, Bordon thought as he drifted off, he was able to pretend for those beautiful, wonderful minutes.

* * *

Vivienne woke before dawn. As she crept back to the house, she felt guiltier than she expected she would. But telling Tavington of what she had done would most certainly be suicide. It was easy to sneak in the door and up the stairs, but when Vivienne opened the bedroom door, her heart nearly stopped.

William leaned casually against one of the bedposts, giving her a look she couldn't quite decipher.

"Plan on telling me where you disappeared to for the past four hours, darling?" he asked, his tone mocking, masking the anger hiding beneath.

"I couldn't sleep. I'm sure you know why." Vivienne tried to look tired and upset, which wasn't hard to fake since she felt a fair amount of both. "I walked around outside for a while, then read downstairs. But I'm tired now, so I should sleep before I must be up for the day." With a brief nod, she walked past him and fell into bed, relaxing as she pulled the covers around her tightly.

Tavington did not reply. He knew she was lying to him, but it would be difficult to call her out on it until he knew more. Her hair had been tousled, her lips pink, and her skin glowing. Not to mention the wrinkled disarray of her nightgown . . .

The only other man Vivienne had associated with besides himself and Lord General Cornwallis was Captain Bordon. Tavington highly doubted Vivienne had any attraction to Cornwallis, but Bordon was a much higher possibility. Tavington felt his anger rise as he imagined his aide-de-camp and wife sharing a passionate moment together. Clenching his fists tightly to avoid howling with rage, Tavington vowed to confront Bordon before the meeting the next morning.

* * *

"Bordon!" Tavington waved the captain over just as he was about to enter Cornwallis' tent.

They were the only ones still outside. Perfect. When Bordon was close enough, Tavington dove forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket.

"I will only ask once, Bordon: Did you fuck my wife last night?" he snarled.

Bordon drove his knee into Tavington's stomach, watching his superior crumple to the ground.

"Not quite, sir. She fucked me. And before you blame me for seducing her, perhaps you should remember that blonde harlot you fucked yesterday without a thought of your _pregnant _wife." Tavington was too stunned at Bordon's boldness to retort right away.

"You are angry about Vivienne's betrayal, yes. But she surely felt all that and more when she learned of your own deceit. Not only can she not trust you now, but she is afraid of you and upset with herself. If I am not mistaken, sir, that is a very dangerous condition for a pregnant woman to be in."

Tavington would have stared at Bordon in disbelief for hours if General O'Hara had not walked up to them at just that moment.

"Late again, Tavington? Perhaps Cornwallis will finally do us all a favor and demote you."

Tavington was too stunned to even say something to wipe the smirk off O'Hara's face. Like a broken horse, lost and confused, he stood, following the other two men inside.

* * *

Vivienne awoke to a crash from below. She sat up at once, her heart pounding,. Like a rabbit, Vivienne froze, listening for any indication of what could be happening.

All at once the bedroom door swung open and a man came barreling toward Vivienne. She was knocked out cold only moments after his fist connected with the back of her head. The man carried Vivienne out, unable to pry her arms away from their protective position around her belly.


	30. A Life for a Life

**Whoa! Another chapter, woot! I didn't have to do so much reworking with this one, so here you are. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! You make my day every time!**

Tavington kicked his horse into a gallop as he finally left the British camp. Cornwallis had made sure to waste plenty of Tavington's time with an unending tirade - it was nearly dark outside.

As the Colonel neared the house, he began to feel something was wrong. Upon drawing closer, he could see one of the first floor windows was smashed.

_Vivienne._

Tavington leapt from his horse while the animal was still moving and ran the rest of the way to the house. He threw open the front door and dashed inside, pistol at the ready. Tavington prepared the weapon to shoot as he carefully crept about the house, searching for his wife.

He charged through the bedroom doorway, his last room to be searched, to see an empty bedroom - the bed still unmade.

Tavington swallowed, his mouth going dry as he went back outside to look for any other possible indication as to what might have occurred here during his absence. Vivienne would know not to run away, but how else might she have disappeared?

He came through the front door and stopped. Leading away from the door on his left were a few boot prints. Vivienne not not own any boots.

Tavington crouched down to examine the prints. Judging from the depth and shape, the wearer was a large and heavy man - perfectly capable of carrying Vivienne off.

As the Colonel followed the prints farther away from the house, new prints mixed with the boot prints. Hoof prints. So they _had_ taken her.

Tavington's jaw tightened and the familiar lust for blood returned as he imagined Vivienne being carried away, screaming, by a huge man. Tavington was surprised at the way his heart felt like it was twisting as he pictured the image. Vivienne was the only person he had ever loved and he would not let her be taken from him by the same man who took his glory again and again.

The Colonel stood, not even realizing his hand had slid to his pistol. There could only be one man behind this - Benjamin Martin.

"Colonel!"

Tavington turned to see Bordon riding up to him, a look of concern on his face as he neared the house.

"Vivienne – " Bordon began.

"She's gone," Tavington replied, his face tight. "As much as I would rather ask someone else, there simply isn't the time. Gather a group of Dragoons and meet me at Martin's sister's estate."

Bordon nodded, knowing Tavington must be desperate if he called upon him for help. The captain turned his mount and rode back to camp.

Tavington walked briskly to his horse, his rational, more military mindset returned, pushing away the flaming anger. Tavington coolly wet his lips and gathered his reins in his hands. A plan formed in the mind of the Colonel as he kicked his horse into a gallop, words forming in his merciless mind. _A life for a life - I know where your children live . . ._

_

* * *

_

"She's coming to, sir!" Richard alerted Benjamin Martin as Vivienne began to stir, groaning softly and pressing her fingers into her stomach so hard they were white.

"Good," Benjamin nodded "Gather the men - they will want to see vengeance done to the wife of the man who burned their wives and children alive."

Richard hesitantly left the tent to fulfill his duty, feeling guilty. It wasn't this woman's fault her husband had sold his soul to the devil. But Richard had signed the document to be under the command of Benjamin Martin, and his orders were to be followed at all costs - even though the man had been acting a bit strange lately.

Vivienne's eyelids flickered, her vision fuzzy as it slowly came into focus. Oh how her head ached. Vivienne was reminded of the time she had been escaping Tavington through the forest when she fell and knocked herself unconscious . . . she smiled at the memory as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

When her sight was clear, the smile vanished. She was sitting in the dirt inside a tent and around her were rather rugged-looking men - all staring at her. The one in the center looked slightly familiar to Vivienne.

It was the man from that night in the woods!_ The man whose son Tavington killed . . . _This man was staring at her most intensely of all the others. With his hair coming out of its bushy queue and his sweat-stained, dirty clothes, he looked nearly insane.

"Do you remember me, Vivienne?" The man asked, kneeling down only feet in front of her, his voice dangerously soft. She could not tell from his tone if he meant her any harm, so she nodded slowly.

"Do you remember when I told you about your husband's brutal murder of my son, Thomas?"

Again, Vivienne nodded. Martin paused before speaking again.

"Did he tell you how he killed my oldest son, Gabriel, not more than a _day_ ago?" Benjamin's voice had become a shout by the end of his sentence. His spittle flecked Vivienne's cheeks and she shook her head no, still not completely understanding when Benjamin Martin lunged forward, holding her chin tightly in his right hand.

"You will _speak_ to me when I am talking to you." His voice had lowered to a growl, which was much more fearsome than his raised voice. From the way he held her chin, Vivienne got the feeling this man could snap her jaw with a twitch of his hand.

"Y-yes - "

"Yes, _sir_."

"Yes . . . sir."

Benjamin stared into her frightened dark eyes for several seconds before releasing her at last. He stood, looking down at her.

"When you give birth to his child, what makes you so sure he won't kill it?"

Vivienne looked up at him in horror. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and that moment was too long for Benjamin Martin to wait.

"You will _speak," _he charged forward, his boot slamming into her belly "when I am talking to you!"

Vivienne doubled over, clutching her belly in a panic and sobbing, but was hoisted to a standing position. As she turned her face to see who had forced her to stand, a calloused hand slapped her across the cheek.

"Tavington killed far too many people to be forgiven. He killed two of my sons with a smile on his face."

"Please - " Vivienne tried to interrupt, but Martin kept on talking in a frighteningly monotone voice.

"He will come here to find you. When he sees what has become of you, _he_ will be the one to break, to suffer, and then I shall kill him."

Richard stepped forward.

"Sir, this is absurd! You can't possibly blame - " Benjamin swirled around, silencing Richard with one look.

"Have you forgotten," he began, addressing all the doubtful-looking men now "That this woman's husband, Colonel Tavington - the _Butcher -_ ruthlessly murdered your wives and children? Killing that bastard is only going to bring him peace. He'll never truly pay for his mistakes until he suffers as we all have suffered."

"Think of the deep, consuming pain that will cut through him when he sees his wife and unborn child murdered just as he murdered our wives and our children. We will have saved so many more from dying by killing this man and his wife."

The other men looked at each other nervously. Then Richard stepped back into the crowd, his eyes averted from Vivienne's desperately pleading glance.

* * *

Tavington pulled up his horse at the plantation of Benjamin's sister-in-law.

"Surround the house," the Colonel muttered to the Dragoons he had brought with him. Major Bordon followed Tavington through the front door and into the dining room, where Martin's other children and sister-in-law were seated for breakfast. Recognizing the man who had killed Thomas, they all stared at him in utter fear. He smiled, forgetting how much he had relished the terror of peasants.

"Good morning. You needn't look so very frightened. I'm only here for a bit of business, then I shall leave you all to your leisurely afternoon."

"I'm not frightened," came an angry little voice from behind Tavington. He turned around to see a small girl, not more than four or five years old, glaring at him. The little girl, dashed around Tavington to grasp the blonde woman's skirts, still staring at him fearlessly.

_How perfect, _Tavington thought. He glanced down at the girl, who was still glaring at him.

"What's your name?" He asked the girl. When only silence was his reply, he pulled out his pistol, pointing it at the blonde woman, who gasped, her hands going down to try to push her niece behind her.

"Susan, her name is Susan!" An older girl at the table blurted. Tavington looked at this girl with slight amusement.

"Thank you," he said, putting his pistol back in its holster. "Now, _Susan_, you are going to come with Captain Bordon and I - "

"_No!_ I won't!" She uttered stubbornly. Tavington tilted his head slightly to the side, smiling in his condescending way at the child.

"You have no choice, girl." With that, he grabbed Susan's tiny wrists in one hand and swung her up over his shoulder. She screeched in protest and pounded at his back, kicking with all her might. The rest of the Martin children were whimpering, murmuring Susan's name.

"No worries, she shall remain alive as long as my wife does. Good day!" Tavington turned on his heel and exited out the front door, Bordon following suit. Tavington mounted his horse and plopped Susan in front of him in the saddle. She still was screaming.

"Don't be so upset - you're going to see your Daddy," he told her lightly. She squirmed in his iron grip.

"I hate my Daddy," came her voice. Tavington was caught off guard. _What a delightful little girl._

"Now _there_ is something we have in common Miss Martin," Tavington sneered, and dug his heel into his mount's side. The horse leapt forward, and, with a signal from Tavington, the other Dragoons came quickly on their horses, flanking him.

Tavington set a fast pace, wanting to cover as much ground as possible. He had no idea where Vivienne might be, or how long she had to live. He could only hope they would find the enemy camp in time . . . and at least Tavington had something to barter with when they did find the rebels - not that he intended on giving Susan up. Surely she could be useful again some day.

Susan's eyelids drooped with the exhaustion of stress and several sleepless nights crying for her long-dead mother. The little girl, for that's all she was, despite her stern attitude, sagged back against Tavington's stomach, the rocking of the horse's body lulling her to sleep.


	31. Fire and Tears

Vivienne could feel her throat constricting in fear. No one here would help her - not now. She would die along with the child she carried. Vivienne swallowed some of her terror, her fingers slipping around her vulnerable stomach once more. If she must die, she would go down fighting.

The militiamen were unable to look at her, their eyes holding pools of sadness. Martin stood over Vivienne, his lips pursed in an attempt to hold in the anger blasting through his veins. Benjamin Martin had changed from a patriotic hero to a madman hell-bent on revenge.

He took a moment to remind himself how Gabriel and Thomas must be smiling down on him from heaven - urging him to avenge their deaths. This picture enveloped Benjamin's mind and he could no longer see Vivienne cowering before him. All he could see was a snarling red demon, skin slick with mucous and blood. The demon must be killed . . .

Benjamin dove to snatch up the demon by its greasy hair and held it out in front of him. He nearly retched in disgust at the squeal that escaped it's drooling mouth as it raked at his face, scratching him with needle-like claws. He shook the demon hard to make it stop clawing him. When the revolting thing let its claws fall to its scaly sides, Benjamin drew back his fist and drove it into the beast's soft stomach.

The demon fell to the floor, squawking a sound so terrible Benjamin knew he had to stop it at once. He leaped forward, landing on top of the creature. He kicked it, punched it, clawed at it with a power that seemed to come from nowhere. Finally he gripped the demon's head, drew it up, and smashed it back down onto the floor.

At last the demon lay silently, changing as it lay there. The red haze slowly drained from Benjamin's vision. Now the form of a young woman beat and bloody, lay before him, still as midnight.

Benjamin stared at the woman, as did his horrified militiamen. They might have stood paralyzed all day if it hadn't been for the small squeal of a child coming from the entrance of the tent. All eyes were drawn to the horrified face of Susan Martin. It took Benjamin a moment to recognize his daughter, and in the glance father and daughter shared in that moment, Susan saw a strange man, a man she did not know.

Susan could never love her father after witnessing what he was capable of. She ran from the tent, leaving Benjamin to stare after her in confusion.

"Susan?" He was hesitant at first, but then traces of his old self filtered through his disturbed mind and his eyes filled with realization. "Susan! Come back!" Before Benjamin could race after his daughter, the air was filled with the sounds of snorting horses and clanks of metal outside the tent.

"It's Tavington," Jack hissed. The men scrambled for weapons as the tent flaps flew open to reveal a mass of red-coated bodies.

Standing at the front of the group with mussed hair and wild eyes stood Colonel William Tavington.

The militiamen had every reason to hate Tavington, but when they saw his expression as he gazed upon Vivienne, pity for the Colonel swelled in their hearts.

His eyes were glassy as he stepped toward the woman who carried his child, the only person who had ever shown affection for him. It hit him then, of all times, that he did love this woman who lay limp as a child's doll in the dirt.

_I loved her . . . and now she's been taken from me._

Tavington's long hair covered his face as his head drooped. Everyone remained stationery - they watched him as if hypnotized. When the Colonel looked up, his jaw trembled with rage and his eyes carried the fire of hell within them. The fire was aimed at Benjamin Martin, who stared back with an expressionless face.

"You took my daughter. You have taken three of my children now," Benjamin uttered in a low voice.

"You still have children left. You destroyed my only family." Tavington replied, an unpleasant smile quivering at his lips. "No more waiting - I shall kill you now." Tavington struggled not to tear this man apart.

"This woman was no better than a prostitute. She carried your demon child within her." Tavington let out an animal snarl of fury and lunged for Martin, who was ready with his tomahawk.

Tavington kicked the tomahawk away as it swung toward his stomach. Then that was it. The men were at too close a range for Tavington to draw either his sword or his pistol, so it was hand-to-hand combat in the most literal of terms. They had only been slugging away at each other for a moment when the militiamen dragged them apart.

Jack and a muscular fellow held Benjamin Martin tightly, even as he fought them. Richard stepped out from the rest, looking at Tavington with sadness in his eyes.

"Take your wife's body and leave here. There has been enough death today," Richard said.

"May I remind you,_ sir_, that we are in midst of a bloody war! There is never too much death," Tavington spat.

"There is when we all can plainly see the unfeeling Colonel Tavington show the most anguish any of us have seen during this war." Richard sighed lightly, looking far older than his thirty-two years in that moment.

Tavington didn't move, nor did the militiamen or the Dragoons. The only sound that could be heard was Benjamin Martin's grunts as he struggled to escape his captors.

Tavington stared at Richard with eyes now void of emotion.

"I accept your proposition. Take your men and leave this place before I change my mind." Tavington's voice was calm, but the wrath on his face assured them he was not.

Richard obeyed, the militiamen leaving the tent at once to pack their things. When they were out of the tent, Tavington turned to face Captain Wilkins.

"Major Bordon is watching the girl. Take the Dragoons outside to guard the horses. Wait for me there."

Wilkins nodded, feeling more sympathy for Tavington than he ever thought he would as the Colonel turned to look at Vivienne.


	32. Bittersweet

The moment the last Dragoon was out of the tent, Tavington dashed to Vivienne's side, tears pouring down his cheeks as he put his arm beneath her back, lifting her up so he could kiss her lips one more time before giving her up. As he raised her head to his chest, he imagined he heard a small murmur. He froze, willing his ears to have heard true. He stared at Vivienne's peaceful visage, and as he did, he swore he saw her face begin to contort with pain. When her mouth opened to utter a groan, he knew he was not imagining things.

"Vivienne! You. . you. . . " He could not even speak for joy. He put his arm beneath her knees to lift her off the ground, about to proclaim to the world she was alive when her eyes popped open, and the devastating pain he saw in them made him freeze.

"William," she rasped "William!" Her voice rose in intensity as she began to quiver and squirm. Tavington gently set her back down, keeping one arm around her back to support her. She began to scream, her voice filled with anguish and unbearable pain. She braced her bruised arms on the ground on either side of her body, supporting herself.

"Vivienne! Tell me what's wrong!" Tavington insisted helplessly, but it was as if she hadn't heard him. She continued to scream and her legs bent up at the knees, her feet now flat on the ground.

Her screaming stopped and her chest began to heave, sweat bursting from her pores.

_Could she be . . . going into labor? But it is too early! Much, much too early!_

Tavington began to panic nearly as much as she. He yelled for Bordon and when the Captain entered the tent, Tavington looked at him with a tormented stare.

"Captain, you have children - what can be done to ease her pain?" Bordon concentrated very hard, thinking, and at last managed to remember.

"We need towels and water," he blurted at once.

"Well _get them_, you fool!" Tavington yelled, turning his attention back to Vivienne, who was still gasping, her breath heaving.

Vivienne grabbed for his hand and he let her squeeze it as her moans started again. Suddenly, something red and slippery slid out of her. Vivienne collapsed back onto her elbows, her breath easing as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"It's over, William. Let me see - " Vivienne stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Tavington's face as he gazed at the tiny baby.

Horror slowly settled over her features as she processed what had happened.

"William," Her voice was high and shaky "William let me see the baby. I _need_ to see - "

He finally looked back at her, his own face contorted with misery.

"It was a boy, Vivienne," he said hoarsely, his heart wrenching with pain for the second time that day.

"No . . . " Vivienne began to hyperventilate as the truth descended on her. She curled her legs under her dress, wet with her blood and body fluids. As dreadful, breath-stealing sobs exploded from her, Tavington crouched down, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her shuddering form. He let his own tears fall into her sweaty hair and they cried together - a husband and wife lamenting the death of their child, murdered before he opened his eyes.

Bordon pushed aside the tent flap, back with the towels and a bucket of water only to drop both at the sight that met his eyes. When the Captain saw the too-tiny red form surrounded by pools of fluid and the Colonel and Vivienne sitting feet away, both covered in blood, he slowly backed up, letting the tent flap drop as he let the couple mourn the loss of their child.

* * *

Susan was only six years old, but the experience she had just gone through was meant for someone far older. Susan didn't understand all that was going on, but she did understand she never wanted to see her father again.

"Susan," Bordon crouched down beside the little girl to meet her eyes. "We're going to take you home now."

"I'm not going home," she replied stubbornly. Before he could grab her, Susan dashed away into the forest and climbed up the first tree she saw. Even in her dress, she scrambled up to a comfortable branch before Bordon could catch up with her.

She watched him wander all around the forest, calling her name. She remained silent and still as a statue. Soon the Captain gave up and returned to the gathering of Dragoons as they waited for the Colonel. Susan stayed exactly where she was.

When Tavington and Vivienne finally appeared, the Dragoons stared at the pair with questions plain on their faces, but they knew better than to ask about what had occurred. The Colonel and his wife had emerged from around the outside of the tent, their clothes smudged with dirt.

Tavington's coat was draped around Vivienne's shoulders, her fingers clutching it together at her neck. Tavington's arm encircled Vivienne's waist as he supported her, glaring at his plainly gaping men.

All the soldiers were waiting for Vivienne to burst into tears and crumple to the ground, but she held her chin high, her face blank. She turned to Tavington.

"I can walk now." Her voice was tight as her face, but Tavington knew she needed to defend her honor. He gently released her and watched as she threw her shoulders back and stepped confidently closer to the horses. Vivienne turned her head back to face Tavington.

"We should leave." He nodded and began barking out commands to the rest of the men, allowing Vivienne to relax as the attention was drawn away from her at last.

Susan watched the whole scene from her perch in the tree, and when Vivienne appeared, Susan was surprised. She had always learned war was for the men - the women stayed home to take care of the children. But here was a woman, a beautiful woman, who looked just as miserable and confused as Susan felt, and there was something very appealing in that revelation.

The girl quickly climbed down the tree and ran to the campground, through the soldiers and wrapped her thin arms around Vivienne's legs.

At first, Vivienne was only surprised, but when her mind registered the fact that a small, thin girl was crying softly into her skirts, she could hold up the facade no longer. Vivienne's knees wobbled and she collapsed onto them, taking the little girl in her arms and weeping into her soft yellow hair.

Tavington stood by his horse, watching the scene along with the rest of his baffled men and sighed softly. He had been struck as much of an emotional blow as Vivienne, but had become an expert at disguising his feelings. He knew the next year or so would be particularly hard for both of them, but for once, he wasn't afraid of going through it. He and Vivienne would support each other.

When Tavington broke out of his thoughts, Vivienne was standing up, holding Susan on her hip. The Colonel strode up to them.

"Susan, would you like to come home with us?" He asked, trying to seem gentle and not intimidating. Susan nodded and he gave her a small smile.

"Very well then. We must be off."

With Susan on Vivienne's lap and Vivienne in Tavington's arms atop his horse, they set off with the rest of the calvary, leaving behind the setting that would haunt all three of their minds for years.


	33. A New Hope

**I was very excited to name this chapter "A New Hope." I am a huge Star Wars fanatic. I just finished reading these great books about Darth Bane. . . SO amazing! Anyways. . . ahem, on with the story :-)**

* * *

Tavington wanted nothing more than to hold Vivienne close that night, but Susan had attached herself to his wife and was clearly not planning on releasing Vivienne any time soon.

The three of them slept in Tavington and Vivienne's large bed, Vivienne only waking occasionally to cry out in desolation. Tavington woke when she did and tenderly stroked her hair until she went back to sleep.

Early in the morning, when it was still dark outside, Tavington woke to see Vivienne lying on her side, staring at him. He glanced down - Susan was fast asleep. Gingerly, he sat up and lifted the girl so she was lying more near the foot of the bed and he eagerly swept Vivienne up in his arms.

It felt so wonderful to have her close, safe, familiar. Vivienne was only silent a moment before she began to cry softly.

"I'm sorry, I just . . . " she whispered through her tears.

"No," he insisted, "You have been through so much pain. You deserve a good cry, my darling."

She cried into his chest, soaking his thin white shirt, which he swiftly removed. As he wrapped his arms around her once again, Vivienne curled into him, pressing her lips together to cease her sobs.

"We need to get away from here - this house, this war, these memories . . ." she murmured.

"I am not withdrawing from this war until Benjamin Martin is dead," Tavington hissed, anger rising quickly in his voice. How could she even suggest he let the man get away with such an offense?

Vivienne pulled away from him, sharply grabbing his biceps and fixing him with an intense stare.

"No! That's what he _wants_ you to do - he wants to kill you, and that _cannot _happen." Vivienne took a deep breath.

"Cornwallis promised you land in Ohio, didn't he? We can go there now - tomorrow! We can escape all of this and no one will find us." Her eyes were round with hope and desperation.

"Vivienne, you know that isn't possible - there is a battle at Camden just days from now - it could very well be the deciding factor of who wins this damn war. The Continentals will have a far better chance if I am absent - "

"Does it matter, William, whether England wins this war or not? It shall not affect us. I have lost my child," her voice cracked, but she closed her eyes, summoning the strength to finish. "I will not lose my husband too."

"But Martin - "

"Will be no more than a myth to us," Vivienne interrupted again, a sad smile slightly lighting her face. Then it disappeared, her face serious once more.

When Tavington made a move to protest, Vivienne pressed her finger to his lips.

"Promise me," she breathed "Promise me you won't be foolish. Promise you will speak to Cornwallis tomorrow about Ohio."

Tavington's lips parted beneath her touch and closed around her finger, his tongue sliding along the length of it. She closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. He released her finger and leaned in to kiss her down-set lips.

Tavington knew he could never lie to her, not after he had nearly lost her, could still lose her. Vivienne was bruised and cut from the nearly lethal pummeling she had received. Her body was still recovering from expelling the premature baby from her refusing body - another shock as big as this would likely kill her.

As much as Tavington wanted to lie to her, to sneak away and murder the man who had scarred his wife so terribly, he would not.

He was about to wrap his arms around Vivienne and lay back down on the pillows when Susan crawled back in between them, still asleep, and flopped down. Tavington met Vivienne's eyes over the small girl and he chuckled softly before falling back on the pillows, drifting off before his smile faded.

* * *

"Vivienne."

Vivienne was called out of her much-welcomed numbing sleep. She felt the light stubble on her husband's chin as he kissed her awake. Vivienne felt warm and happy, forgetting the events of the previous day. But as she sat up, her eyes her eyes met Tavington's, and the dark memories rushed back into her head, hitting her with enough force to send tears surging from her eyes.

Tavington swallowed as he watched with pity Vivienne's recollection of her trauma. She hugged her knees to her chest and breathed shakily, trying not to cry, but he could see the dark tear spots already dotting her dress.

"Ssssh," he wrapped his arms around her, thankful for Susan's strange desire to visit his horse first thing in the morning. He needed time alone with his wife.

"Everything will be all right. We leave this place for Ohio first thing tomorrow morning."

"Do you _promise_ you won't go after that man?" Vivienne looked at him sternly, her desperate eyes pooling with her desire to protect him. Tavington swallowed his doubts.

"I promise. I shall go to Cornwallis today to resign."

Vivienne lifted her head to kiss his lips, her tears wetting his cheek.

* * *

"You want _what_?" Cornwallis' ears must have been playing tricks on him.

"To resign from my duty as Colonel so I may take my wife away from here. We will stay on that plot of land in Ohio that was promised to me." Tavington stood straight, though there was a heavy feeling in his chest threatening to weigh him down.

"Colonel, our upcoming battle with those ruffian Continentals is drawing near - too near for you to give up," Cornwallis spat "And I never promised you Ohio. I offered it as an incentive if you were to capture Martin, which you _failed_ to do."

Tavington suppressed his steadily increasing anger. He couldn't strangle the foolish man no matter how much he desired to. Britain needed Cornwallis for the upcoming battle.

"Very well then. I suppose I shall have to search out a home for my family on my own."

Cornwallis huffed in frustration as he walked to the other side of his desk.

"I see no reason why Vivienne cannot stay - "

"Have you ever lost a _child_, General?" Tavington's interruption was sharp, edged with concealed anger. Cornwallis' mouth gaped and he licked his lips.

"Well, no, but this - "

"Then that would explain your not seeing reason." Tavington turned on his heel and smartly stepped to the entrance of the tent. He turned back to face his Lord General before exiting.

"Good day to you, sir. I do hope the British prevail."

Cornwallis squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. The _nerve_ of this insufferable bastard! No wonder Martin wanted him dead. . .

_At least I don't have to deal with him any longer,_ Cornwallis thought optimistically as he exited the tent to tell Captain Bordon of his promotion to Colonel.

By the time Tavington arrived back at the house, Vivienne had already packed away most of their few possessions in a horse-drawn wagon. She looked up as he reined in his horse, a forced smile on her face.

"How did it go?" she asked as Susan ran out of the house with a pile of blankets. Tavington drummed his fingers on the edge of his saddle, not wanting to disappoint her any further, but having no choice.

"Cornwallis refused me the land in Ohio and was upset about my resignation." He sighed. "Vivienne, I will find a place for us to stay - you needn't worry about it."

"I trust you, William," she said gently, knowing how he hated not being in control.

"Even living in a simple hut is better than living in this house." Vivienne glanced at their home, remembering the times she would sit in her chair and sew for her baby, now lost.

Feeling her throat constrict with sorrow at the thought, Vivienne turned back toward Tavington, again forcing a smile.

"The sooner we're out of here, the better," she said softly before going back to the house to finish the packing.

As Tavington watched her go, he realized how deeply she was cut by the death of their child. He himself had felt momentous grief at the sight of the dead baby, more than he thought he would feel.

He sucked in a breath of the summer afternoon air and was reminded of Vivienne's dream of a little country house with children playing in the yard.

Dismounting from his horse, Tavington resolutely marched into the house to help his wife pack.

_I will give you that dream, Vivienne, so you can forget about this . . . _

Vivienne carried a bundle of clothes out to the wagon, calling back to her husband that there was one package left in the house.

Tavington saw it and marched over, lifting the heavy box in his arms. He sighed, expelling the nervous thoughts of their future that had been troubling him. He knew now what to do. Determinedly, he carried the last box out to the wagon.


	34. False Peace

"Are you ready to leave, William?" Vivienne asked as he deposited the last box into the wagon.

Tavington glanced back at Susan, who was petting his horse's nose very gently, the big beast lowering his neck so the girl could touch him.

"In a moment," Tavington responded as he walked towards Susan. She looked up as he neared, her expression blank. Tavington tried to put on what he hoped was a pleasant, non-scary smile and crouched down in front of her to meet her eyes.

"Susan, you have a very important decision to make."

She continued to regard him with big blue eyes, her expression not changing.

"You may return to your aunt, brothers, and sister, or you may come along with Vivienne and I and stay with us as our daughter. Which shall it be?"

Susan's eyes rose to look over his shoulder at Vivienne sitting in the wagon. A little smile, foreign to her face, blossomed across her cheeks, and her eyes flicked back to Tavington's.

Without a word, she threw her little arms around his neck and whispered,

"I'm coming with you."

Tavington couldn't hold back a smile as she laid her chin on his shoulder, her arms still locked around his neck. He picked her up off the ground with one arm and took his horse's reins with the other.

Leading the big animal, Tavington carried Susan back to the wagon, and she leaned in and kissed his cheek before jumping down beside Vivienne. Surprised at how happy her small signs of affection meant to him, Tavington sat in the driver's seat, smugly thinking of how Benjamin Martin would roar to see his daughter so lovingly embracing his worst enemy.

Within moments, Tavington had hooked his mount beside the horse drawing the wagon. Tavington clutched the reins in his hands and leapt up to join Vivienne and Susan. He took one last, longing glance at the expanse of grass leading to the British campground.

_You could be there, preparing to win the last battle for England, preparing for the greatest honor of your life . . . _

"William?"

Tavington brought himself out of his thoughts at Vivienne's tender voice. He had come too far to go back now. For once in his life, Tavington would follow the plan.

"Let's be off then," Tavington replied and slapped the reins against the horse's back. The little wagon tumbled down the road, its occupants anxiously awaiting the new home that would bring their minds peace at last.

"Fortunately for us, we can be assured Tavington will be at this battle. He couldn't resist staying away. And this time I will kill him."

Benjamin Martin faced his men as they all prepared for the battle at Camden. Martin paced back and forth in front of them, a look of determination plastered on his features.

"Sir, what about your daughter, Susan? Tavington is the only one with information regarding her - " Richard began.

"I will force the information out of him before he dies," Benjamin interjected "Susan will come home with me after this battle. Tavington will be dead, the British will be vanquished, and our lives can return to their peaceful states."

Benjamin swiftly mounted his horse and rode forward a few paces before turning the great beast around to face his men once more.

"We fight for America!" His passionate cry roused the men out of their fear and soon all had joined the chant. Benjamin leaned over to pick up an enormous American flag lain against the side of his tent.

As he raised the flag high into the air, the pieces of fabric Gabriel had so faithfully stitched together flapped in the breeze, streaming out behind the leader of the Continental army as he set off at a gallop for the last battle.

"We won't have to count on Tavington to mishandle his duty this time," General O'Hara commented with a smirk to Cornwallis.

"Yes, one less thing to worry about for us," Cornwallis replied gruffly. Tavington had been a stubborn and disrespectful Colonel, but he did know how to get the job done.

The two men sat upon their mighty horses, keeping the soldiers ready for the attack of the Colonial army. Colonel, formerly Captain, Bordon sat at the head of the cavalry, his posture stiff. Cornwallis could tell the man was anxious about his recent promotion.

"You had better not botch up this job, Bordon," Cornwallis muttered to himself.

"Sir!"

Cornwallis' head swiveled to the source of O'Hara's voice. The General was gesturing uneasily to a mass of men coming over the hill.

The Continental army surged forward, different battle cries mingling in the air to form a fearsome, animal-like sound. Faces were contorted with concentration and spirit. Benjamin Martin led them and his expression, as the British saw as Martin drew closer, was the most intense of all. The red, white, and blue colors of the flag flashed before the eyes of the British as if taunting them.

"Even for the last battle they cannot fight like men," Cornwallis chuckled dryly at the barbaric appearance of the Continentals.

"These Colonials have defied Britain for the last time," Cornwallis shouted to his soldiers. "Onward!"

The red army swelled toward the Colonial men, red swirling with dirty white and brown as they met head on.

Benjamin Martin glided through the mass of British soldiers as if riding a wave. He had only one target on mind, and until he locked on to that target, nothing would stand in his way.

Benjamin's vision was enveloped in fury as his gaze darted from side to side, scrutinizing the area for Tavington. But as Martin pushed through throngs of English soldiers, he saw a sight that stopped him dead.

The Green Dragoon Calvary was charging into battle, but Tavington was not at its head.

Benjamin slowed his horse in confusion, oblivious to the raging battle around him.

"_Tavington!_" He roared desperately, as if the former Colonel would come if called. Somehow, Martin's cry had reached Bordon's ears, and the new Colonel turned to the source of the shout. When he saw Martin sitting on his horse, stunned, Bordon was filled with vengeful feelings.

"Forward!" Bordon shouted as he aimed his sword low and descended quickly upon Benjamin Martin.

When the leader of the militia looked up, he met Bordon's angry eyes and was only able to glimpse a flash of silver before the tip of Bordon's sword dug into his horse's chest, causing the animal to rear up high and send Martin flying through the air.

Emboldened, Bordon rode past and went deeper into the fray, now confident enough to exert every ounce of energy for this battle. He could not _kill_ Martin - that was Tavington's right, but to knock the man down a few notches was perfectly excusable.

Benjamin dragged his body into a kneeling position; somehow he had not been trampled or shot in the long moments he lay vulnerable in the dirt. The noises of battle seemed to fade away and Martin was swathed by silence and dust from the horses' hooves as it swirled in the air around him.

It was then that realization hit him. Tavington was not present at this battlefield. Somehow he had managed to stay away, managed to hold back killing the man who destroyed the only things he had ever loved.

Benjamin knew what he had to do. He would find Tavington and kill him, wherever the villainous snake had fled to.

Benjamin leapt up and, acting swiftly, grabbed a bayonet from the dust and drove it into the soldier who sat atop a horse surging closer to Martin. Benjamin quickly pushed the soldier off and mounted the horse, not noticing the man sucking in a bloody gurgle of a last breath to gasp out words to his killer.

"Benjamin, Benjamin! What have you done?"

Benjamin swerved among the fighting men, not noticing the man he killed was a Continental soldier - one of his own. His target had changed for the moment and the new target was at the battlefield.

"What the - ?" Cornwallis watched Benjamin Martin ride toward he and General O'Hara, separated though they were from the clashing soldiers and militiamen.

"Sir! He's riding this way!" O'Hara gasped.

"I can _see_ that, you fool! Have your weapon at the ready - we don't know what to expect with this one."

General O'Hara pointed his pistol at Martin and the sweaty militia leader held up his hands in a peaceful gesture as he neared them.

"I only want an answer to my question. I mean no harm to either of you." Martin said, his voice unsettlingly calm.

"We trust you not, Martin. You have made idiots of us too many times already."

"Tell me where Colonel Tavington is," Martin said in his frightening monotone "And you shall never see me or hear of me again."

Cornwallis and O'Hara glanced at each other. The Continentals would be nothing without Martin to lead them . . .

"He's in Ohio, near the south-eastern border," Cornwallis replied slowly. Benjamin nodded his thanks and kicked his weary horse into a gallop in the direction of Ohio. This time, there would be no fellow Americans to hold Martin off. He would destroy Tavington once and for all.


	35. The Last Battle

"I'm sure this will be suitable . . . " Vivienne murmured as she, Tavington, and Susan stood before their new home. Tavington glanced at her skeptically.

"The fool who sold this to me will give back every last penny," he growled.

"Now it isn't all that bad, William. We can make do - we haven't the money for inns anymore." Vivienne put on a smile for Susan, but behind it she was devastated.

Before the small family was a fairly large country house that looked as if there had been several wars run through it. Judging from the style in which it was built, the house was very old. And they hadn't even seen the inside yet. Whether or not one could live in this fearsome structure was questionable.

Vivienne sighed lightly before going back to the cart to bring their things inside.

By the time Benjamin Martin had reached his destination, it was dusk. He was exhausted, his limbs drooping and his hair tangled and wild. But when he saw the rundown house at the top of the hill before him, fresh energy coursed through his veins. He walked faster, his eagerness intensifying, when a small figure came out the door and stopped cold upon seeing him. Martin squinted. It couldn't be . . .

But it was. His little Susan stood just outside the door of the house, staring intently right at him.

"Susan!" he called, his voice gruff from thirst. She spun around and flew right into the house again, leaving Martin reaching out pathetically for her. Suddenly, his anger came rushing back with a new fierceness. He began to run, slipping his tomahawk out of his belt as he did so. Martin promised himself a victory this time.

Vivienne was trying to put together a meal for the small family when Susan burst into the kitchen, panting.

"Daddy's coming." Her tone was hard and emotionless, but there was fear in her eyes.

"Is he - " Vivienne was interrupted by the sound of the front door crashing open, announcing an intruder. Her eyes grew wide and she acted quickly, grabbing Susan's arm and dashing out the back archway into the dining room.

"Stay here, and be quiet as a mouse!" Vivienne hissed as she shoved Susan under the table. Vivienne slipped out the door and froze as she became face to face with Martin. His eyes were cold and he gripped his tomahawk in his right hand, poised to kill her. Powered by fear, Vivienne screamed and ran the other way, her heart pounding along with the sound of his boots as he chased her. She dashed up the stairs and turned a corner, not knowing where she was going.

Vivienne was thankful for the darkness now as she ducked into the nearest room and frantically hid behind the moth-eaten curtains, steadying them as they swished about. Her chest heaved and she felt beads of sweat gathering on her forehead. She heard Martin's heavy boots on the creaking floor as he slowly entered the room. She knew from the silence that he was looking all around for possible hiding spots. Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut, willing him not to find her.

The sound of the boots edged closer to where she stood, praying for her life.

"You forgot about _me_, Daddy!" Came Susan's voice suddenly from the doorway. As the pattering of her feet went off down the hall, Martin gave chase, leaving Vivienne to escape.

_I have to find William,_ she thought urgently. Suddenly, Susan's scream cut through the air. Vivienne dashed blindly toward the sound, coming around the corner and nearly crashing into the small girl, Martin close behind. Vivienne snatched Susan's hand and ran the other way, grateful for the multiple hallways and connecting rooms.

Like a flash, Vivienne, with Susan in tow, darted into one of the rooms. From a quick scan of the area, Vivienne could see there were several places to hide in this room. As she gasped for breath, looking around frantically for a place that could escape Martin's notice, a ragged sob burst from Susan. Vivienne bent quickly to clap her hand over the child's mouth, knowing how frightened she must be.

"SShhh, darling. Pretend we're all playing hide-and-seek. You, William, and I _need_ to win the game." Vivienne whispered as she opened the door to a closet and stuffed Susan in, covering her with the dusty, tattered coats. Just as Vivienne was stepping away to look for another place to hide, a tomahawk whizzed past her head to thud into the wall before her.

With a squeak, Vivienne didn't even bother turning around before throwing open the doors to the connecting room to find Tavington with his pistol aimed at her forehead. Upon recognizing her, he put the pistol down immediately.

"Where is - "

He was cut off as the tomahawk thudded into his shoulder. Tavington cried out in pain, dropping his pistol involuntarily.

"Go!" He said through clenched teeth at Vivienne. She obeyed, dashing down the stairs to find help.

Martin came raging forward, fierce pleasure in his eyes as he had his enemy cornered at last. Martin grabbed Tavington's pistol from the floor and fired a shot into the Colonel's leg. A rush of victory coursed through Martin at Tavington's sharp intake of breath.

"Finish it, Martin." Tavington hissed, humiliated at this ridiculous defeat that would be the death of him at last.

"Not until you've suffered as I've suffered." Martin lunged forward to rip his tomahawk from Tavington's shoulder and shove the bleeding man to the ground. Martin snatched Tavington's hand in a crushing grip, pressing it to the floor. Lifting the tomahawk, the crazed man brought it down heavily just as the Colonel managed to summon enough strength to yank his hand backwards. Even still, the bite of the tomahawk devoured the Colonel's pinky finger. As Tavington collapsed to the floor, quivering with pain, Martin lifted his heavy boot and stomped down on Tavington's foot, feeling bones crack. This time, Tavington cried out, unable to hold it in any longer. Martin leaned down and gripped Tavington's cravat to pull the man closer to his face.

"Every bone in your body will be broken before you can die," Martin grunted. With one last attempt to protect his dignity, Tavington spat in Martin's face with a cold sneer.

"Then get to it, you coward," Tavington growled. Martin smashed his fist into Tavington's face, the force knocking him backwards. Martin drew back the tomahawk, preparing to go at it again, when Susan appeared, staring at them in her unsettling way.

"Take me home, Daddy. Take me home right now." Martin couldn't move. His attention diverted, Susan ran past, heading for the stairs.

"Susan . . . Susan!" Distracted, Martin raced after her, leaving Tavington writhing on the floor to choke on the blood flowing into his mouth.

As Martin came down the stairs, he could no longer see Susan, but he heard someone shouting. Vivienne stood outside the house, her hands cupped around her mouth, desperately yelling for help.

This vision enraged Martin. He strode outside and, before she saw him, grabbed her from behind with one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, his hand covering her mouth.

He dragged her inside, ignoring her whimpers of fear. He hated her. He wanted to hurt her and make her regret ever marrying Tavington. Deciding at once what to do with her, Martin shoved the young woman up against the wall and held her there with one hand, the other grasping the edge of her skirt. He pushed her skirts up to her hips and forced his knee between her legs so he could unbutton his breeches. As he fumbled with the button, Vivienne's hand slid down to her thigh and she grasped the first weapon her fingers felt - the knife. Drawing back just as Martin got his breeches down, she drove the knife up under his ribs with all the force she could muster, shoving him away as he crumbled to the floor.

Not even waiting to see if he was dead, Vivienne sprinted up the stairs to find her husband. As she turned the corner, her heart sank. Tavington lay still on the floor, bleeding profusely from multiple wounds. Vivienne hiked up her skirt as she came towards him, frantically ripping off pieces of fabric to wrap his wounds.

_Please be alive, please be alive!_ she prayed as she wrapped the wounds, supporting his back and moving him to a sitting position.

He coughed, blood flecking Vivienne's bodice.

"Oh William, thank God you aren't dead!" She wept, pressing a bundle of fabric to his shoulder.

"Not quite," he said hoarsely. "Martin - ?"

"I killed him," she replied as she continued bandaging Tavington "Your gift saved me."

Tavington smiled in spite of his pain. "I knew it was a good investment." Suddenly he winced. "Call Susan here. I know how to care for these wounds, but you must act quickly."

Vivienne obeyed, and Susan came running in, going pale at the bloody figure on the floor.

"Susan, go and fetch clean cloths and the medicine case from the box in the kitchen. Hurry now!" Vivienne directed. When she was once again alone with her husband, Vivienne began to sob, clutching a fistful of Tavington's uniform in her hand.

"Vivienne, I'm going to survive, you needn't worry," Tavington insisted weakly.

"I know," she replied "I just cannot believe we're all alive. If he would have . . . " She broke off, not wanting to say the rest.

"Sssh," Tavington's thumb caressed her cheek gently. "Settle down and help me clean these wounds."

Susan slipped back into the room and together she and Vivienne worked to clean and dress Tavington's wounds. Vivienne couldn't hold back a smile as her hands shakily wrapped fresh cloth around Tavington's leg. She released a breath as she saw his face relax.

"You are going to heal just fine," Vivienne said softly as his eyelids fluttered closed.


	36. Epilogue

"Susan! Take your sister down to play by the flowers - she loves the daisies," Vivienne instructed to Susan, who took her younger sister, Georgina's, hand and gently led the toddler down to where the daisies swayed in the wind. Georgina squealed and clutched at the flowers with her pudgy hands, thrusting her button-nose down to smell the bright yellow centers.

"Mamaaa!" Georgina screeched, looking at Vivienne with pure delight.

"That's my girl," Vivienne said softly, a warm smile lighting her face "Go play - I'm right here, darling."

So absorbed was Vivienne in her daughter's joyful antics that she did not sense her husband coming up behind her.

"I'm beginning to think we should have called her Daisy," Tavington murmured, his arm sliding around Vivienne's shoulders.

She leaned into him with a soft sigh, dragging her fingers through his hair, which was long and loose today.

"Tomorrow something else will occupy her attentions and we would have to rename her," Vivienne chuckled, proud of her daughter's intense curiosity and amazement with the world.

They watched silently for a moment, drinking in the serenity of the blue-skied afternoon.

"She'll be a beauty some day - just like her mother," Tavington said with a proud smile. Vivienne kissed his cheek, unable to keep from smiling.

"Can you believe we've been in this wonderful place for two years? The time has flown by," she remarked.

"It certainly has - and there's been plenty to keep us all busy in those two years," He replied, his mind drifting back to the day they had first arrived on this cheap spot of land with the rundown old mansion.

Despite the drastic changes America as a country had gone through in the past two years, little had changed for Tavington and Vivienne, other than their steadily growing family and happiness. Their home was a haven for all of them, pleasantly distant from the painful events that would haunt them all to their dying days, excepting of course, little Georgina, who would hear the story in due time.

"And things will be getting far busier in just a few months," Vivienne said softly, placing a loving hand on her round belly. "It's a boy this time, you know."

"How can you tell?" He asked, mystified. He too placed a hand on her belly, as if just the feeling of her stomach would alert him to the gender of their child.

"I just know." She murmured, drifting into her thoughts. "Our first child, I wanted to call him Daniel." Vivienne didn't look at Tavington, her face dark.

"Well, if this one is a boy as you say, then he shall be called Daniel - a pleasant memory in place of an unpleasant one."

"I shall never forget. It still haunts me at times." Vivienne was careful not to let herself fall into the abyss of depression which tempted her incessantly.

Tavington and Vivienne were shaken out of their solemn moment as Georgina ran up to them sobbing and holding out her finger.

"A bee stung her - I'm sorry mother, I couldn't see - " Susan's breathless explanation was interrupted by Vivienne's gentle shushing.

"It's not your fault, Susan. You know how curious she is. Georgina - "

The toddler had stopped before her father, pointing her swollen finger up at him with a wide pout across her face. Tavington crouched down beside his daughter and gently held her tiny hand in his large one.

"Shall I fetch you a bandage - "

"William," Vivienne whispered. He looked up at her. "Kiss it."

Tavington's gaze returned to Georgina's wide eyes and trembling little mouth. He pressed his lips to her finger.

"There, all better now, darling. Go on and play."

But she only made a little moan and held up her arms, wanting to be held. He swept her up and rocked her gently as she laid her curly head on his shoulder, her eyes closing.

Tavington's cold heart had slowly filled with warmth as his family loved him, and the military persona he had known all his life became nothing more than a distant memory.

His heart swelled once more as he cradled Georgina, in whom he could see so much of himself as a child.

Vivienne glanced to her husband's loving, four-fingered hand on the toddler's back. The sight sent an old tremor through her, reminding her of the day she almost lost William . . .

Vivienne smiled wistfully. They had been through so much together. Even now she could remember the lustful look on his face when he had first set eyes upon her in her silly nightgown. It seemed like ages ago . . .

Vivienne reached for her husband's hand, kissing the spot where his pinky would have been. When their eyes met, love and joy reflected in the simple gaze they shared. As Vivienne hooked one arm through Tavington's and put the other around Susan, the family stood amongst the vibrant grass and the daisies - all five hearts beating strongly together.

***Sniff* There it is. The last chapter of this story. I had so much fun writing this, and even when I went through rough patches of writer's block, all you lovely reviewers helped motivate me to keep going. I would not have finished this had it not been for all you wonderful, wonderful reviewers. Thanks for so faithfully reading and reviewing! :-)**

**Any thoughts on this story as a whole? Please let me know - I'm trying to improve as a writer and any bits of advice, encouragement, or criticism would be very much appreciated. **


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